Nocturnal Dementia
by idiotique
Summary: The passing of seven years. An unfinished painting. An unexpected return. Resurfaced feelings.
1. Rain

**Nighttime Dementia**

**I: Rain**

It's been way too long.

He hardly remembered the streets of this town, but still, he found himself walking aimlessly through them.

The sky was a dead grey, but as far as Johnny C. remembered, there were never any clear blue skies in this town. The rain poured miserably over him as he continued walking, his trench coat completely soaked under the downpour.

It's been nearly seven years since he left this town to silence himself from all feeling and desire. After seven years of forcing himself of forgetting how to feel, it was working quite well. He has turned into an emotionless sack of organs (a very skinny emotionless sack of organs), and he liked it. For once in a long time, Johnny liked who he was, even if it was just a little bit.

The icy winds began taking hold of him, and his twig-like legs began to tremble violently. In fact, they were shaking so bad that Johnny couldn't even walk and he had to resort to sit on the closest bench. He felt his arms begin to shake as well and he hugged himself to keep warm. He had to hug gingerly though, because of the knives he kept hidden under his coat.

Johnny didn't change much over the years, except for the fact that his hair grew back to the usual black spiky mop that it was, and he even grew a few inches taller. Other than his height and the re-growth of his hair, he was still the same skinny, troubled minded young adult who killed people simply because he thought they deserved it.

Oftentimes though, when his twisted mind wasn't preoccupied with thoughts of mass murder and genocide, _she_ would pop into his head at the most inconvenient times. It's not like Johnny intended for it to happen, it just _did_, and he never really wanted it to.

But of course, as all humans do, he couldn't help but cherish that thought whenever it came back to him.

He knew that he swore himself off from all emotion, but he gave up trying to fight this one. Devi was special to Johnny. Although they've gone to a date gone horribly wrong, and even though he tried apologizing over the phone through a tape recorder, only to have her scream at him, he still thought about her. He still liked her. He still wanted her. He still cared. He didn't want to, he really didn't want to, but he did, and by now he figured that there was no use trying to fight it off.

He leaned back on the bench and felt the cool rain fall onto his pale face, closing his eyes as he did so. He basked in the refreshing feeling. It felt as if all of his past feelings were dripping down his face with the rain, as if the stains on the walls of his mind were being washed away.

But there was always that one stain that was just too stubborn to come off, and Johnny hated yet loved it with a fiery compassion.

The rain didn't seem to be stopping any time soon, so Johnny got up and began walking again. He didn't want to go home; he was afraid of running into Reverend Meat again. He didn't like going home much anymore. He had this phobia of his inner voices ever since the doughboys and Nailbunny, and now that Reverend Meat was there he didn't want to go home at all, though he had no other choice sometimes because he **needed** a place to store his victims.

There wasn't any other place he could possibly go at the moment; he's been to every corner of the city. Johnny didn't want to see the same sights over again, so he turned on his heel and headed back to the dilapidated shack he called home.

--

Classical music echoed through Devi's narrow, empty apartment hallways. The faint tapping on the windows from the rain soothed her as she dipped her paintbrush into her palette, swirling it in a small puddle of navy paint.

Every week for the past seven years, Devi D. only had one subject in mind, and that was to finally complete the painting she's been trying to create ever since the day after that maniac tried taking her life after what seemed to be such a pleasant night out together.

Ever since that day, Devi has been having dreams-actually they were more like nightmares. The events of that night kept replaying in her head, and it has been haunting her since.

There was this one particular image she had in mind whenever she had that nightmare, and it somehow compelled her to it. It was appalling, but at the same time it was beautiful, intriguing, mysteriously satisfying. Whenever Devi had the dream, she'd wake up and paint a little bit of that image, as much as she could remember of it.

Sadly, it's been seven years since the dreams started and she still hasn't finished it. Hell, she wasn't even halfway done. She didn't even take up a quarter of the canvas.

All she had so far was a smother of navy blue and a little bit of a shape painted in black. The thing about her dream is that whenever she had it and woke up right after, she'd forget a lot about it, which frustrated her because she really wanted to paint that certain image, but for some reason whenever she thought of it she'd have sudden amnesia, and she'd have to wait until she fell asleep again to remember what it looked like.

She stopped painting for a minute and clamped her eyes shut, trying to recollect the faint images from her dreams. All she could remember was her and him, sitting together on the grey tattered couch in his dark, creepy, crumbling house. The atmosphere was disastrous but at the moment it seemed perfect. Then came those questions that he asked her that night.

_"Why did you ask me out? Why did you want to go out with me?"_

Her reply followed soon after.

_"It's simple: I **like** you. I enjoy our talks, when you come visit me at the bookstore. I like you for **all **those reasons people ask a person out for. **There**, I said **my **thing, now I just hope your thoughts run along those same lines. If not, then I'll just get awkward and leave, quietly, after **killing** you."_

Awkward silence. Clashing eyes, chocolate brown and emerald green. Hysterical laughter.

Oh, how wrong of her to say that last sentence…

They found themselves nose to nose. They were so close…

_"Yes! Yes! Happiness! I'm happy!"_

_"Nny? Where are you going? NNY!"_

Knives. Two glittering, grinning knives clasped in his bony hands. A tremble of fear. A quivering of the lips.

_"Nny? Nny, what are you doing?"_

_"Immortalizing the moment."_

A sudden mind block jams itself into her train of thought and Devi found herself back in reality, staring blankly at her unfinished painting.

_Fuck. _She couldn't remember that very first image of the memory, the one she was trying to paint, to recreate, to relive. She remembered what happened afterwards. She remembered what happened in the middle, and how she kicked his ass and escaped with her life in the end. She remembered staring at his bloody, twitching body lying helplessly on the floor before making a run for it, but she couldn't remember what happened before. She could only remember the _bad _parts, not the _good_ ones. She sighed in defeat and cleaned her things up and stowed them away. That was enough reminiscing for one day. It was hard enough digging into that painful, traumatizing memory of that night, the night she thought that would change her life for good.

She would just have to wait until she falls asleep again.

--


	2. He's Right, I Think

**Nighttime Dementia**

**II: He's Right, I Think**

"Ah, I see that my sweet Nny has arrived home after a long day's journey of exploring the streets that you once caused mayhem on."

Reverend Meat's voice (which was actually Johnny's, but in the form of a miniature Burger Boy) flooded into Johnny's ears as the gaunt young man entered his rundown house. The first thing Johnny did was go into his room to change out of his wet clothes.

After seven long years of renewing himself, Johnny also rid his old high leather steel toe boots and the 'magic' logo-changing black shirt. Johnny's usual outfit now was a pair of worn out, patchy, black (practically grey now after so many uses) pair of jeans that was ripped and frayed at the bottom. He wore a simple t-shirt that had thick horizontal black and white stripes. Simple black, sturdy leather boots covered his feet, and it only went up to his ankles this time. He usually covered it all with his black trench coat, which seemed to dry quickly after being wet, no matter what liquid, either rain, or blood, it didn't matter. Even though his outfit looked less 'original' than before, he still stood out amidst a crowd.

Johnny stepped out of his room, looking exactly the same as before, just dryer. He tugged absently at his coat collar as he shot a defiant chocolate brown glare at the miniature statue standing on the box of nails a few feet away from her.

"Been feeling anything lately? Lonely, hungry, aroused? Anything **HUMAN **in you lately, Johnny?" Reverend Meat taunted, holding the burger a little higher than he usually did. Johnny scoffed and crossed his skinny arms.

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not feeling anything at all at the moment, except a little annoyed. I'm annoyed at you for trying to coax me into giving into my feelings again." He grumbled, and kicked Mr. Samsa, who just happened to be crawling on the floor in front of him.

"Oh yeah? How about Devi? How's she been these days?" Reverent Meat asked in a daring sort of way. Johnny's glare intensified and he balled his hands into tight fists.

"You SHUT UP. You just shut the FUCK up, okay?" Johnny screamed. He grabbed Reverent Meat in his hands and shook him violently. As always, the statue showed no emotion, but it spoke. Oh, it spoke alright.

"Ah, so you HAVE been thinking of the girl. It figures." He replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Johnny made a face of disgust and threw Reverend Meat on the old couch, the same couch where he and _she_ sat that fateful night…

No, NO! He mustn't let these thoughts plague his mind. _Shut yourself off to all emotion. Shut yourself off to all emotion. You are cold and senseless, cold and senseless. You only need to do what it takes, not all the extra shit in between. You are an insect. You are as cold as the pale moon. Do not let your emotions cloud your path again. DON'T._

Johnny clasped his head in his claw-like hands and rocked it gently. He was inwardly persuading himself to shut down. He was completely aware of the Burger Boy watching him from the couch.

"It's not gonna happen, my dear Nny. Stop giving yourself false hope. You can't wish away your feelings just like that."

"Yes I can. I've done it before. I've been doing this for seven years, you despicable burger eating person! I CAN DO THIS!" Johnny screamed, and he clamped his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts out of his head. But as hard as he tried, they couldn't leave. They wouldn't leave.

He couldn't scrub the stain off the wall.

"I told you Nny; it's impossible to abandon your emotions. You were born to feel. You are a human being. Humans are born with feelings and thoughts. You can't throw them away." Reverend Meat explained. Johnny wiped the tears of frustration from his cloudy chestnut eyes and turned to stare at the statue, who somehow got up and was sitting casually on the couch's armrest.

"I do not feel. I do not give into desire. I do what I do to survive. I don't do anything else just because I want to." Johnny explained bluntly, his voice calloused. Reverend Meat continued staring back at Johnny with huge, expressionless eyes.

"Nny, Nny, what am I ever to do with you? I know the Doughboys fucked you up, but they're figments of the past. I can help you Johnny, I can help you! I won't tell you to kill yourself like what the Doughboys did. I'm different from them, Nny, I really am!"

Johnny shook his head, his spiky locks swaying wildly. His hair fell into his eyes as his glare strengthened.

"I don't need your help. I'm capable of helping myself." Johnny grumbled.

"If you can really help yourself, then you would've let go of Devi (Johnny twitched at the mention of her name) a long time ago! Just admit it Johnny; you **want** her. You love her!" Reverend Meat exclaimed. Johnny screamed in outrage and stomped the floor like a child having a temper tantrum.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I don't even know why I came back here! FUCK YOU, MEAT!" Johnny screamed, and began heading for the door. Reverend Meat's last words rang into Johnny's ears before he even thought of reaching for the doorknob.

"Don't deny your feelings for her Johnny. They'll continue growing until they devour you whole."

Reverend Meat didn't say anything else. Johnny spun on his heel to face the small statue with the burger propped up on one hand.

"…Meat? Hello, are you still there?" Johnny asked. He tapped the statue's head a few times before giving up. The ashen light of the moon began leaking through the cracks between the boarded up windows, and it indicated that the rain had stopped.

Johnny opened the front door and breathed in the cool air. He couldn't stand that stupid Reverend Meat guy. It was because of that demented burger boy statue that Johnny rarely came home.

An hour passed and Johnny C. found himself in the midst of the residential side of the city. Tall apartment buildings towered over him, and it sort of made him feel dizzy just by looking at them. He then realized where he really was.

It wasn't just the residential area of the dirty, senile city.

It was also Devi's neighourbood complex.

--

It has been a while since Devi listened to actual music with words in it. She was listening to an old radio station she used to listen to in her teens. Right now Hawthorne Heights' _Screenwriting an Apology _was blasting through the speakers of her small radio as she dabbed her worn out paintbrush into her palette of indigo paint.

_Exchange the sunshine for brown eyes and dark skies,_

_Replace this dull life with you._

_I know it's tomorrow, _

_She's waiting for something to feel alive._

She had another dream.

She remembered a bit more of the image she was dying to paint.

It was a clear night sky. It was contaminated with glittering stars and a bright full moon.

It was a little breezy.

There was a cliff…

And then she stopped thinking. Another mind block wedged into her brain and it stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks. Devi cursed in frustration and set the palette down to rest her head a little. She poured herself a little bit of cheap champagne that was sitting idly on the coffee table and plopped down on the couch, sipping from her glass as she did so. Her jaded green eyes slid over to her painting, which was surprisingly starting to cover quite a bit of the canvas now.

She spent the past few hours painting a beautiful night sky. It was swirled in different shades of blue and purple, and it faded to black as it slowly reached to the top end of the canvas. She dotted it with little white and pale yellow stars. In the top left corner was a blob of white mixed with some creamy colour, which was meant to be the moon.

Sadly, Devi couldn't remember what was _under _that night sky, except her of course. If she wasn't there then the image wouldn't be of much importance.

_Immortalizing the moment._

She was freezing a perfect moment in the shape of a painting. She captured something that would be forever burned in her brain into a visual so that she could look at it just in case she became absent minded.

_If only she could remember ALL of it…_

--

He remembered where her apartment was. He even remembered the floor and the door number. He remembered _everything_, and it scared him. He wanted to forget…he wanted to forget so badly.

He never knew his brain stored things he didn't take notice of.

For some reason Johnny found himself standing a foot away from her door. His heart was pounding furiously and his hands were clenched in sweaty, trembling fists.

_What was he doing here?_

_She'd never accept him back, not after what he attempted to do._

_But that was seven years ago…_

_Bury the hatchet. Stow it in the closet. Maybe she's forgotten all about it._

_You have to at least try._

_No, no! Don't give in. You only do what you NEED to do, not what you WANT to do. C'mon Johnny, get your head straight!_

_But Devi…she's…she's different…_

Johnny mentally slapped himself and took a small step backwards. He was shaking so much he almost stumbled to the floor.

_C'mon…just knock. One knock won't hurt._

He shook and clutched his head. He really had to stop talking to himself.

He wasn't going to give in.

He was cold, emotionless, and senseless, just like Mr. Samsa. He wasn't a vile, selfish, mundane human being.

He was a _flusher._ He wasn't like everyone else.

_But she isn't like everyone else either. She's special. She stands out to you._

Johnny's arm began moving on its own. It was reaching for the door. He didn't know whether it was him or _something else _that was reaching for the door.

_What the hell am I doing? Oh my God. Stop…STOP!_

It was too late. Johnny's hand was rapping against the wooden door. His wide eyes widened even more and a tiny _squee! _erupted from his lips.

He heard the turning of the doorknob. _Run, Johnny, run!_

And just like that, Johnny C. raced down the hallway and disappeared.

--

"…Fucking pranksters. Stupid teenagers."

Devi slammed the door in frustration. Her champagne sloshed around in her glass as she stormed back to her resting spot on the couch. The anger soon passed though, because the rain finally stopped and a dim sunlight peered through the window. Devi rose from the couch to look outside.

It was dripping wet outside, but the sky was finally clearing up and there was a tiny bit of sun coming out from one of the clouds. Devi smiled to herself; she hasn't seen a sunny day in this city for awhile. She looked across the street and eyed the people that were walking, only to have her pupils shrink back in horror.

There was a single twig-like man walking quickly down the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pockets. His messy, spiky hair moved slightly in the wind. He gave everyone that passed him a deadly glare, as if he was making a mental note to kill them later on.

He was dressed differently, but Devi knew who he was.

It was Jonathan C.

Johnny.

Nny.


	3. Encounter

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**III: Encounter**

"Why am I here? ANSWER ME!"

"Oh, I believe you already know the answer to that, my dear friend."

Johnny was pacing back and forth in one of the many levels of his basement, a knife held behind his back. His newest victim was chained against the wall. She was a pretty one; blonde hair, blue eyes, slim body figure. The mascara ran down her eyes as she screamed and cried in terror.

"I didn't do anything bad!" She hollered. Johnny turned to face her, his brown eyes glinting with malice.

"That's what YOU think. Tch, you seem so beautiful on the outside. If you could only see how ugly you really are on the inside, then you will truly know why I have brought you here." He retorted. He brought out the knife and pressed it daintily against the girl's throat. The girl saw her reflection on the blade; a beautiful, crying girl.

"You were out clubbing with your friends last night, weren't you? And you saw me walking by myself to the convenience store; trying to get myself a nice cherry Brainfreezie, but NOOO…you just had to INTRUDE. You came in and began pushing me around, you and your other beautiful girlfriends and your big, strong, boyfriends, calling me names and telling me that I'm some weak insect who was just ASKING to get my ass kicked. Now tell me-is that what you did last night, OR NOT?" Johnny exploded, pressing the knife a little harder against her throat. The sharp blade nicked her and tiny streams of blood began running down her neck, staining her white blouse.

"I-we were j-just joking around…d-don't take it so seriously…" The girl whimpered. Johnny smirked and backed away from her, releasing her from the knife's lethal grip. He pointed at her with a condemning finger. A flame burned in his eyes.

"YOU were the one who insisted to harass me in the first place! YOU were the one who got the others to gang up on me! What do you have to say about THAT, you ugly FUCK?" Johnny screamed, and without warning, hurled the knife directly at the girl's face. Blood and bits of her flew everywhere as Johnny laughed maniacally.

A bloodstained Johnny walked up to the dead girl was his hands behind his back. He aimed right between the eyes on this one. His aim didn't fail him.

"Just as I thought…absolutely nothing."

--

It wasn't possible.

Maybe she really was going crazy.

_I swear I threw that Sickness painting out._

Devi had shut all her blinds and double-locked her windows and doors, despite the fact that it was a sunny day outside.

_He's back. Nny's back._

Her heart automatically leapt to her throat as she stared at her unfinished painting, which eerily seemed to be staring back at her.

_Jonathan. Johnny. Nny._

She still couldn't believe it. She _saw_ him, but was it for real, or was her mind playing tricks on her?

Sickness was gone, but what made her so sure? Was Sickness _really_ gone?

Desperate to get her mind off thinking of the subject, Devi got up and slowly approached her incomplete painting. Somehow something was drawing her to it.

_Finish it. Think back and remember._

Something was telling, forcing her to remember what happened that night.

Devi tried, but it was no use. All she could really remember was the small talk before he lashed the knives out on her.

_Remember when you actually had a good feeling about what was going to happen? Remember the stars? The moon? Nny and you?_

A light went off in Devi's head. A clear image suddenly popped into her head, only to have it vanish from her a split second later.

"FUCK!" She screamed, kicking the air in frustration. It was **right there**, so why did it have to slip from her fingers?

She closed her eyes again and thought so hard she thought her head would explode.

She could see the dark sky, the stars, the moon…

The cliff…

Looking down on the people that deserved to be looked down upon.

…An amazing illusion.

As if her hands had a mind on their own, Devi slowly yet automatically picked up her palette.

Bits and pieces were beginning to come together.

--

Johnny slammed his fist against the already damaged wall of what remained of his living room. His eyes were clamped shut with tears forcing themselves out, streaming down his thin face in jagged streams.

He was an _idiot_ to have done something like that.

He didn't know what came over him.

He thought that his usual killing spree would help him take her off his mind, but it didn't work at all.

"Heya Johnny. **Feeling **down?" Reverend Meat asked teasingly, emphasizing the world 'feeling'. Johnny collapsed on his knees and leaned forward a little to rest his forehead on the wall. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Shut up. I don't need you." Johnny choked between sobs.

"Aww, c'mon Johnny. Lighten up a bit. Maybe you should do something to get this whole thing off your shoulders. You hungry? Do you wanna go out for some tacos or something? Or maybe you're just bored. Let's go bowling!" Meat pressed on. The burger boy's words grinded against Johnny's veins.

"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID STATUE! I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOU! SHUT UP! I CONTROL ME, I CONTROL ME!" Johnny screamed, and he rose to his feet. He spun around to face the burger boy statue sitting on a barrel full of blood.

"Haven't I already told you, Nny? You'll always be a slave to something. You'll always be controlled. You'll never be in control. You know that, don't you? Like right now, your feelings for Devi have overcome you. They've taken control of you! You can't do anything about it Johnny; just accept the fact that you're human and that you rely on your feelings, your wants, to stay alive!"

"NO! I DO WHAT I NEED AND NOTHING MORE! NO EXCESS!" Johnny stomped up to the burger boy and picked him up in sweaty hands.

"Hey, what are you-"

CRASH!

With a mighty throw, Johnny managed to slam the statue of Reverend Meat smack dab on the floor, smashing it into multiple pieces. Johnny stared at the broken statue, huffing.

"I don't need you. I'm in control of **me**." Johnny muttered, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He admitted that his feelings for Devi have returned, even stronger than ever.

But they haven't overcome him. He was in control.

He did what was needed to be done and nothing more and talking to Devi was **exactly** what he needed to do.

But he didn't know if he could. Of course, Devi would still be afraid of him. He tried to kill her, for fuck's sake. She would never forgive him!

Johnny shook his head violently and rubbed his eyes. He needed to clear his head. He took one last look at the shattered pieces of Reverend Meat before dashing out the door.

--

"FUCK!"

Another mind block shoved itself into Devi's head and she slammed her palette on the tarp covered floor in frustration. Her tired green eyes shifted to her painting.

It was beginning to come together at least.

The star spotted sky was complete. It was an array of purples and blues, dotted with white and yellow stars and the pale moon. The black shapeless figure from before was beginning to take form to what looked like some sort of rough surface.

_"It's so pretty when you're looking down on it."_

_"Yes it is. It's an amazing illusion."_

"No…why can't I remember…why can't I recall…the painting seems to be finished but something inside is telling me that there's another piece missing to it. What else can there be? I covered the whole fucking canvas. It took me seven fucking years to remember what happened that night and I've painted whatever there was needed to be painted! WHY? WHY?"

Devi let out a noise that crossed between a cry and a screech and she collapsed on her knees, exhaling loudly. Her fists were clenched as tight as her eyes were clamped together.

_Maybe I need some fresh air. Maybe I just need to take a walk. Maybe I just need to clear my head-yeah, that's it…clear my head…I've been indoors too long…_

Totally forgetting about her fear of going out, Devi snatched the jacket hanging from the nearby coat racket and slipped out the door.

--

_Why am I doing this again?_

_Why am I here?_

_Where the fuck am I going?_

It was almost sundown as Johnny stopped dead in his tracks. He found himself on a hilltop, leaning against a dead tree. He was gazing down at the city full of filthy, vile, mundane human beings.

This place felt oddly familiar.

Johnny couldn't quite put a finger to how it felt like he's been here before. Maybe it was just a random case of déjà vu?

Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped against the tree, lost in his train of thought. His thinking broke when a small croak erupted from behind.

"…Nny?"

--

Devi shivered a little in the slight breeze and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. She had no idea where she was going-her feet seemed to be moving on their own.

It was getting a little darker as Devi walked up a step incline of patchy grass and dirt. Trees rustled in the wind, giving out an eerie whistling noise. It had a haunting beauty to it.

When she reached the top, she found herself looking over the city.

_It was an amazing illusion._

A small gasp escaped her lips as a sudden image popped into her head. She suddenly felt weak and she held onto a nearby tree for support. The setting sun was shining in her eyes now and Devi had to shield her hand over her eyes to see properly.

There was a single dead tree standing in front of her, along with another figure leaning against it.

It seemed almost twig-like…

Another gasp escaped Devi's lips as the realization of recognizing the figure coursed through her veins. She took another step closer, and with a shaking, trembling voice, she managed to choke out a single word in painful surprise.

"…Nny?"


	4. Attempt

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**IV: Attempt**

"Devi…"

Johnny's voice cracked after he managed to whisper her name; he couldn't' seem to find his voice and he cast his gaze down upon the grass. He heard Devi's footsteps approaching him.

'Nny, it's been too long…seven years." Devi murmured. Johnny scoffed. She didn't seem to be mad. It was as if he never attempted to kill her. After a few minutes of awkward silence he found the strength to look up and stare into those emerald eyes of hers, the eyes that he always stared into in his nightmares.

"I know." He replied quickly, and turned around to face the sunset. It was halfway down now, and the sky was bleeding shades of purples, oranges, reds, and yellows. It was getting darker.

"I-I have to go." Johnny muttered abruptly, and he turned to leave, but he stopped when he felt Devi's grip on his arm.

"Don't…don't leave Johnny. I want to talk…I need to talk to you." He heard her plea. Johnny closed his eyes. Meat's voice flooded into his head unexpectedly.

_You still love her…_

_Stay Johnny, stay._

"I…" Johnny managed to wriggle out of Devi's grasp and he turned to face her, his eyes glinting dangerously. Devi took a cautious step back.

"Please…leave me alone." He whispered, and walked down the hill faster than he usually would.

--

That was weird.

After Johnny left, Devi walked home, and now she was sitting in her small living room, reflecting on what just happened to her.

Johnny looked the same. He was taller, but nonetheless he was still Johnny C.

He didn't act like Johnny C. though.

He seemed so…cold, so distant, as if she was a stranger to him. She thought that it was a complete mess and that it should be turned around. **She **should've been the one scared to see him. To be honest, she felt a little nervous when she saw him at the hill, but for some reason she felt calmer than she expected herself to be.

Seven years have passed…maybe he changed?

No…when someone attempts murder, they can't change. She knew that Johnny had some issues. She knew he was sick with something…but maybe he's gotten help. He seemed a little…sane up at the hilltop. She had the sudden urge to talk to him, but she didn't know his number.

She knew his address though.

A chill surged up and down her spine. Did she really want to go to Johnny C's house, the house where she almost died? Did she really want to face the man who attempted to kill her after such a great night out with him?

She turned to look at the painting. The night sky and the black ground seemed to be calling out to her.

_An amazing illusion._

_Johnny…_

She knew what she had to do. She wanted to finish the painting, but she couldn't remember what happened that night. She couldn't remember the very beginning of it, but after today she knew that she wasn't alone on that night.

She needed help to complete the painting, and the only person that could help her was the one who accompanied her that night.

And that person was Johnny C.

--

Johnny sat cross legged in the middle of his torn up living room, exhaling loudly. His eyes were red from crying and his face was paler than usual.

_Devi. He saw Devi._

He **needed** to talk to her, so why didn't he do anything? Why did he just back away?

"FUCK!" He screamed in frustration.

_ARRRGHHH!_

The doorbell (which was really a series of circuits connecting the doorbell to a poor innocent man) was ringing. Someone was here.

"No one ever stops by…" Johnny's voice trailed off. After a few seconds of silence he rose and slowly reached for the doorknob. He turned and opened the door.

The blood drained from his face when he stared at Devi, standing three feet away from him.

--

"Johnny, I **really** need to talk to you. I'm sorry for interrupting whatever you were doing, but this is really important." Devi pressed on. She stepped forward so that her shoe was in between the doorway, so Johnny couldn't close the door on her. Johnny gulped and stepped aside, letting her in.

"What makes this so important?" Johnny inquired impatiently. The ice in Johnny's tone made the hairs on the back of Devi's neck stand up.

"Look…you know what happened seven years ago…and I think we need to settle this. It's been bothering me for some time now…and I'm sure it's done the same to you. I'm sorry I screamed at you over the phone that day. I still couldn't get over the fact that you tried to kill me, but after seven years I got over it and I just really need to talk to you about it. Can you just listen to me, Nny?" She blurted out whatever came to mind, hoping that Johnny would oblige.

"Devi…I don't know…" He mumbled back. His voice seemed weak, almost detached from himself. Devi felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. She reached out to him, but he immediately shrunk away, telling her that he disliked being touched. She dropped her hand in defeat and sighed.

"Seven years ago, I liked you. I liked you a lot, Devi. That date that we went on was absolutely extraordinary. It was nothing like I've ever experienced before; it was the only time where I felt truly happy with what I was doing." Johnny explained jadedly. He turned his back on her and walked to the living room. Devi decided to follow.

"Then why did you try to kill me?" Devi asked. A lump formed in her throat. She suddenly regretted asking such a question. Johnny spun on his heel to face her. His dark brown eyes were reflecting a deep hurt, and it ached Devi to see him in such a state.

"I…I was enthralled in my happiness that I was afraid to lose you. I was afraid of losing you to the wearing affects of time. I wanted this to be kept forever. I wanted it to be perfect forever. I thought that I could keep it that way somehow…by killing you so that the moment would forever be remembered." Johnny explained monotonously. Devi's mouth twitched at his tone. He seemed to be showing no affection through his voice, but his eyes were showing his true feelings.

"So you tried 'immortalizing the moment', huh?" Devi asked, recalling the line he used before pulling the knives out on her. Johnny managed to smile a little, but it quickly faded. He nodded solemnly and sat on the couch. Devi sat down beside him and watched as he cradled his head in his bony hands.

"Nny…" She started, but Johnny interrupted her.

"I messed everything up, I know. I messed up what would've been something so perfect, so happy…so sane. Now I can never get it back. When I finally grasped it, I let go on purpose." Johnny cried. His voice was cracking, which meant he was crying. Devi reached out to touch him again, but as she moved her hand closer he didn't seem to mind this time. She ran her fingers through his hair, which felt surprisingly soft.

"Nny, don't cry…that happened nearly seven years ago…what's passed has passed." She soothed, but Johnny continued crying.

"Nothing you can say will undo what I have attempted on you, Devi." He sobbed.

"Johnny…" Devi started, but her words escaped her. What was she supposed to say?

_It's okay, Nny._

_Everything will be okay._

_We'll get you help. I'll help you._

There were so many things that seemed appropriate for her to say, but whenever Devi tried saying it, her mouth went dry and her voice wasn't present.

"Devi, I-I think you should go." Johnny broke the silence. Devi pulled herself out of her thoughts and turned to look at him. His eyes were rimmed with tears and he looked dreadfully tired.

"Nny…"

"Go."

Rushed footsteps.

The slamming of a heavy wooden door.

The empty sighs and crystalline tears of a homicidal maniac.

--

It was pouring outside. Devi cursed under her breath for walking and not taking a car. She brushed her soaked bangs out of her eyes as she crossed the intersection. She was walking down a bad part of the neighbourhood at the worst possible time.

_Smart, Devi…very smart. _Her conscious was teasing her again. Devi ignored this and continued walking. She heard distant footsteps behind her but she didn't pay much attention to them.

Ten minutes of walking and the footsteps began to crescendo.

Devi's heartbeat quickened, and so did her walking speed. The footsteps began to speed up too. Devi broke out into a jog and dashed down the sidewalk. She turned a sharp corner, only to face a solid brick wall.

_Fuck._

"Thought you could run from me, eh pretty?"

It was a short, stubby, hairy, grotesque lump of a man. He stood a few feet away from her. He was licking his chapped lips and a sickening feeling emerged in Devi's gut.

"Get the fuck away from me, bastard." Devi growled. Her fists were clenched tight. She knew how to defend herself; she wasn't **THAT **scared.

Her bravery washed away almost immediately when the man pulled a long, snarling knife out of his long coat.

"Don't move and I won't use this on you." He said quietly, inching closer. Devi shook her head and tried to muster up all of her remaining self-confidence. She kicked someone's ass that had **two **knives; why was she afraid of this guy?

"It won't hurt, I promise…" She heard the man whisper. It was a poor attempt at trying to be seductive. In lightning speed, Devi grabbed one of the man's thick wrists and pushed him to the wet concrete.

"Ah, so you're a frisky one. I like you already!" He squealed in delight, and attempted to stand up. Devi stomped hard on his chest, cutting off his air circulation.

"Don't even think about it, you nasty fuck." Devi grunted.

Unexpectedly, the man grabbed her foot and swung it around, causing Devi to trip and fall on the floor. Opening her eyes, Devi found the shimmering blade staring at her in the face. Tears of fear squirted from her eyes.

"Who's the arrogant bitch now, eh?"

Devi was about to spit into his face when she heard the sound of a blade slicing through flesh.

The man dropped limp at her side; his legs were cleanly sliced off. Blood and rain rippled violently on the concrete as Devi looked up to see her 'savior'.

It was none other than Johnny C.


	5. A Little Help From Squee, err, Todd

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**IV: A Little Help From Squee-Er, Todd**

"You didn't have to do that." Devi muttered, wiping her face with her sleeve. Johnny continued to stare down at her with a seemingly emotionless stare. For a few odd seconds the two just stood there in the rain, staring at each other. Devi looked back at Johnny in confusion. It seemed as if he was daydreaming.

"Uh, Nny? Hello?" Devi waved her hand in front of Johnny's face but he didn't seem to faze.

"Are you in there?"

A few more seconds of silence passed and Johnny seemed to wake up.

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds._

"Huh? Oh…yeah." He muttered dazedly. He shook his head to rid himself what he had left of his daze and he turned on his heel to walk back home.

"W-wait! Johnny…" Devi called after him. Johnny was about to hit the sidewalk when he stopped. He turned halfway to face her.

"Uh…thanks." She said it quietly, but it was loud enough for Johnny to hear. He nodded wordlessly towards her and left.

--

She was becoming too much of a hassle.

She was plaguing his mind like an unwanted disease. He wanted **out.**

What could he do? She's been bothering him the past seven years. Even though he's rid himself of all emotion he still found her buried at the very back of his mind, and she was too stubborn to leave. Now that he's back in the city, she seemed to be more bothersome than ever.

Johnny stared vacantly at his worn down house, an upset feeling warming his stomach. He didn't feel like going home at the moment. He was afraid that Reverend Meat would somehow repair himself and start talking to him again. His chocolate irises wandered the street until he stopped on the house to the left of his.

Squee. He had to see him, but what if he was still at the mental institution?

Johnny had to try. He made his way across the empty lawn and peered through Squee's window. It was too dark to see the contents of the room, but Johnny noticed that the walls were no longer covered with happy face wallpaper. It was painted a dull, emotionless grey.

Johnny tapped the window. There was no reply. He tried again. This time, a deep, sullen voice replied to his tapping.

"…Scary Neighbour Guy?"

Johnny instantly knew it was Squee who said that. No one else ever called him 'Scary Neighbour Guy' except for him. The window slowly slid open, revealing a thin faced, pale skinned teenager with feathery, messy raven hair and depressing silver grey eyes.

"Squee? Is that really you?" Johnny choked. He almost forgot that it has been seven years since he last saw the little boy. Squee let him inside the room. Johnny took a quick look around. It was no longer the child's room he remembered sneaking into every once in a while. The walls were a steel grey. The cartoon character posters have been replaced with weird looking metal bands.

Squee has sure sprouted over the years. He was just about up to Johnny's shoulders. The little island of black hair has grown out. Squee kept it very short at the back to spike it out, but he left the front very long. His bangs were swept to the side so that it covered his left eye. The sides were cut layered along the ears. Johnny cringed; he wasn't very fond of 'emo' kids, though he vaguely remembered being sort of one back in his younger years.

Squee was dressed in semi-tight jeans with ripped parts at the knees. A heavy studded belt with a Superman buckle kept it up, even though it seemed tight enough to hold itself. His upper body was covered with a small, child's size grey shirt of some band. He was sickly thin; almost as thin as Johnny.

"Todd." The boy replied dully. Johnny chuckled a little bit.

"I always told you that I liked Squee better." He replied, sitting on the single bed stowed away in the corner.

"And I've always told you that my real name was Todd." Squee grunted. Johnny could sense Squee's glare and he nodded.

"Alright, I suppose I should call you Todd…since you're grown up now and whatnot. Say…I thought you were at the institute. Since when were you let out?" Johnny asked, attempting to strike up a conversation. Squee-er, Todd, turned his back to Johnny and stared at the blank wall.

"I was put into the institution when I was nine. I was let out when I was fourteen." Todd grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. Johnny nodded in reply.

"So…you're like what…sixteen now?"

Todd nodded silently. A dissatisfied smirk crept up on Johnny's thin lips.

"Shit. I've been away too long haven't I?"

Todd shook his head and turned to face his neighbour. His once big, innocent eyes have been replaced with smaller, sleepy yet crestfallen eyes that showed living proof of how cruel and vile the world really is. Over the years Todd has grown out of his innocence and he drank every word that Johnny said to him the day he left. Now he understood what he meant by how vile people were, and how easy it was to give into one's own anger. Johnny could see in Todd that he now understood. He was old enough to open his eyes, to take in the harsh reality of this world. It almost brought a smile to Johnny's face, knowing that there was another being on this earth that understood what he was thinking.

He just hoped that Todd didn't turn out to be exactly like him.

"So why are you here? Need some bactine or something?" Todd asked, breaking Johnny from his thoughts. Johnny shook his head quickly. A sudden thought raced into his mind.

_Maybe he can help. Todd's a teenager; he would know…right? It doesn't hurt to try._

"Uh, well no…but I came to…er, ask you something. I need help on something and I thought you'd be of some help." Johnny explained, fiddling with his hands. Todd raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"It's girl problems isn't it? Don't ask-I can tell by the way you're talking-oh, and the way you're playing with your hands like that." Todd replied almost automatically, a smirk playing on his lips. Johnny smiled nervously in return.

"Dammit Sq-Todd, you've grown up."

Todd ignored the comment and continued rambling.

"It's Devi isn't it?"

Johnny almost choked on his saliva. He shot a shocked look at his neighbour.

"Wha-how do you…"

"I met her at the café a couple of years back, when I was just released from the institution. My parents didn't even bother to pick me up as usual-hell, I don't even think they noticed I was gone-but anyways, yeah, I met her, and she recognized me as 'the kid that Nny always used to talk about' and we struck up a conversation. The rest is history." Todd explained, cocking his head to the side. Johnny nodded slowly. He remembered talking to Devi about Sq-Todd a couple of times. He ever expected them to coincidentally meet though.

"Do…do you still talk to her?" Johnny stuttered shakily. He clamped his eyes shut after he saw Todd nod.

"We meet regularly at the café. She's a nice person-she lets me stay over when my parents are being jackasses, which, you may know by now, is most of the time. She's sorta like a big sister to me, if you will." Todd explained. Johnny cast his gaze to the dark carpet and nodded again. He tried finding words to say but his mouth ran dry and his throat seemed to be closing up on him.

"So…when's the next time you're gonna talk to her?" Johnny asked nervously. Todd ran a hand through his untidy hair, his silvery eyes glinting under the dim light from outside.

"Whenever I want to." He replied simply. He walked over to his bedside table and picked up a small orange bottle, where he popped the white cap open and turned it on an angle so that its contents would come out. Cupping a hand underneath the opening, he shook the bottle a little bit, only to reveal a single capsule tumbling into his open palm. Johnny instantly recognized the pill-it was Prozac.

"I've been on these babies for seven years straight." Todd said a little lightly, popping the capsule into his mouth and downing it with a glass of water that was sitting idly on the end table. Johnny nodded and got up from the bed.

"Is…is that the only medication you're on?" He asked slowly, unsure of the question he was asking. Todd shook his head and set down the now half empty glass.

"I'm on two sleeping aides and another anti-depressant. What you've done was pretty fuckin' traumatizing for a nine year old-hell; it would be horrifying for anybody."

Johnny gave him a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head. He suddenly felt uncomfortable having this conversation with his neighbour.

"Yeah…I sorta thought so. Uh, anyways, sorry for intruding…I think it's time for me to get outta here. I'll talk to you later, Sq-Todd." He said with a simple wave, and began to crawl out the window. He stopped midway when Todd tapped his shoulder. Johnny turned to face his neighbour.

"Ah, the hell with it…Squee sounds way better than Todd when you say it."

This brought a true smile to Johnny C's face.


	6. Surrender

_I don't own JTHM or Billy Talent, though I'd be happy if I did._

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**V: Surrender**

Devi sat on her couch, staring emotionlessly at the painting that stood on the creaking easel before her. It wasn't complete yet, but she had a feeling that she was going to finish it soon…

Now that Johnny C was back in town.

She didn't understand how he somehow knew that she was going to be attacked on the streets earlier that evening. She didn't understand how he just left without saying a word. She-

_Ring, ring._

The phone echoed through the halls and Devi jumped out from her seat in surprise. She picked up the phone with a shaky hand and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" She asked, trying her best to conceal her nervousness. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she heard Squee's adolescent voice grunting on the other end of the line.

'Devi, the Scary Neighbour Man dropped by an hour ago. I just thought you wanted to know." Squee murmured somewhat sarcastically. Devi held back a gasp.

"H-he did? What did he say?"

"Ah, nothing much. He just dropped in to see how I was doing, and he mentioned you a couple of times. He was surprised when I told him that I knew you." Squee explained. Devi could hear the boy opening a medicine bottle in the background.

"Um…did you tell him anything else?" She asked, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she made her way towards the easel. She bent down to pick up the palette and she squirted a few bottles of oil and paint onto it.

"No, not really. He just wanted to know when I was going to talk to you again." Squee said quietly. Devi heard the sound of a tap being turned on.

"And…what did you say?" She asked, dipping her brush into the blob of dark coloured paint. She began wiping her brush against the bottom part of the canvas, covering the blank spot with a blackish colour.

"I told him that I'll talk to you whenever I felt like it. Coincidentally, I felt like talking to you now, so I simply called you to give you the heads up." Squee mumbled. He paused for a few minutes to pop the pills into his mouth and to down it all with a glass of water. "Are you gonna talk to him sometime soon?"

Devi nearly dropped her paints at the question. Was she planning to talk to him? Did she even have the guts to talk to him?

"I would…I seriously would…but…" She stammered. Squee picked up from where she left off.

"You would, but you can't…I know. I understand. You're not the only person he's been creeping out for the past seven years. Look, if you want to talk to him, I'll give you his number. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Squee gave Johnny's number to her and hung up soon after a mumbled goodbye. Devi stared at the crumpled gum wrapper clutched in her trembling hand. She managed to scribble the seven digits (minus the area code) onto the wrapper, but she wasn't sure if she was actually going to use them. She set her palette and brush aside and sat on the couch. As if her hand had a mind on its own, she reached for the telephone.

--

_Dear Die-ary,_

_It's annoying to return home after an extended period of time, hoping to forget about nearly everything that once plagued your mind while you were there, only to find out that you haven't forgotten them, only merely set it aside. Maybe the Doughboys were right when they said that the walls of my mind will be stained forever. I've been trying to scrub the stains off for seven years but they still remain the same. I promised you that the next time I write in this book that I will be as cold as the moonlight…but I guess I'm sorry to say that I lied. I failed._

_Fuck. I guess I'm not as smart as I think I am._

_-Johnny C._

Johnny slammed the notebook shut and threw the pencil away. He stood up and made his way towards one of the boarded up windows, where he stared through the gaps, looking at a seemingly perfect world.

The sun was out. The sky was blue. There were even children outside, skipping rope, riding on bicycles, drawing on driveways with sidewalk chalk. It seemed like such a perfect scenario. To anyone it would've been perfect. To Johnny it was practically a velvet curtain covering the stage behind it.

_She reads a book from across the street,_

_waiting for someone that she'll never meet._

_Talk over coffee for an hour or two,_

_She wonders why I'm always in a good mood._

_Killin' time before she struts her stuff,_

_She needs support and I've become the crutch._

_She'll never know how much she means to me._

_I'd play the game but I'm the referee._

Johnny's head whipped to the side, where he found an old stereo propped up on a stool, playing Billy Talent's _Surrender _on full blast. He cringed at first-he didn't really like any other genres of music except for classical, but for some reason he found this song compelling. He left the radio be…for now.

_Surrender every word, every thought every sound._

_Surrender every touch, every smile, every frown._

_Surrender all the pain we've endured until now._

_Surrender all the hope that I lost you have found._

_Surrender yourself to me._

Sometimes he found himself wondering what it would've been like if he wasn't criminally insane. He knew that he wasn't like this from the start, but he can't even remember what he was like before. Like he mentioned before, he only remembered the 'typical shit'. He couldn't remember any specific details, like what he was like, who his parents were, even the street he grew up on.

What if Johnny C. wasn't criminally insane? What if he didn't have a severe chemical imbalance?

He would've probably been a nice person to talk to, a good friend to be around with. He liked friends. He never had any real ones for all he could remember, but he saw people with their friends. They seemed like a good thing to have with you. He'd never be lonely if he had friends.

_What about Devi? She was your friend…up until that whole knife attack thing._

Ah yes, Devi D, the non-removable stain occupying the walls of his mind. She was there…she was _always _there. She has been stuck in his head for the past seven years and it looked like she wasn't planning to move anytime soon.

_Even though I know what I'm lookin' for,_

_She's got a brick wall behind her door._

_I'd travel time and confess to her,_

_But I'm afraid she'd shoot the messenger. _

He still wanted her, he admitted it. He thought that he succeeded in relinquishing all human emotion. He thought he was free of all the useless wants that distracted a person from properly living their lives. Devi D. proved him wrong.

He still longed for her. After seven years of forcing himself out of the emotional machine he was, he still liked her. He knew that she wouldn't like him the same way ever again, after what he attempted to do to her. He still remembered how she screamed at his message over the phone.

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds,_

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds._

_Searching until my hands bleed,_

_This flower don't belong to me._

He knew that it was way out of character for him to feel any sort of emotional or physical wanting for another person. He's been hating that sort of attraction ever since he could remember _(which in fact, isn't that far back)_. He wished Nailbunny was here. Nailbunny always gave him good advice. Nailbunny was the only voice, the only alternative personality that was worth listening to.

Nailbunny was right when he said it wasn't polite to try and take Devi's life. He knew that. He didn't know what came over him though. Stupid Doughboys, it was their fault. The ghoulishly repainted pastry mascot stands have been twisting and warping his mind over the years, mutating Johnny C. into the…the _thing_ he was now. He didn't even want to call himself human. He's done so many inhumane things to other people.

He attempted to murder the only person he ever cared about, and he knew that was wrong.

_Oh, Nailbunny, where are you?_

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds,_

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds._

_Searching until my hands bleed,_

_This flower don't belong to me._

_This flower don't belong to me._

_Why could she belong to me?_

He really wanted to talk to Devi. He wanted to, but he was afraid to at the same time. He wanted oh so desperately to sort things out to her, to explain what the hell's going on with him, but he knew she would never understand. How could he tell her about the _head noise_ continuously echoing in his skull and the seemingly bottomless torture basement? How could he explain about the killings and how there was reason behind them? How could he tell her that he once had to drain blood to paint a wall with an unmentionable figure behind it, and it broke out and most likely killed a lot of people? How could he tell her that he's accidentally killed himself, gone to heaven **and **hell, and met God and Satan?

She'd think he was a lunatic-of course, that would be the solid truth, but still, Johnny's experience was pretty hard to believe.

He really wanted to tell her though.

He needed her to be there for him.

_Surrender every word, every thought every sound._

_Surrender every touch, every smile, every frown._

_Surrender all the pain we've endured until now._

_Surrender all the hope that I lost you have found._

_(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,_

_(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?_

_(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,_

_(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?_

_(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask,_

_(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?_

Johnny let out a shaky sigh and wiped the tears from his eyes. He didn't even notice them until he saw droplets falling from somewhere onto the cracked windowsill. A sudden bubble of anger swelled inside of him.

_Nobody cares about Johnny C, NOBODY!_

_You are far beyond redemption this time, Johnny C._

_There is no use trying to mend broken pieces that are too small, too sharp to be put back together!_

"NO! SHUT UP, SHUT UP! YOU'RE GONE, YOU'RE GONE! FUCK YOU!" Johnny screamed. He stared at the old workbench at the other side of the room, where the unmoving statues of Mr. Eff and D-Boy stood. In less than a second Johnny sprinted over to them and hoisted both Styrofoam statues up into the air.

"I'm through with being a slave, you fucks. I'm FREE!" He screeched, and threw them onto the floor. He raised a menacing black boot over them.

"No more." Johnny C whispered tearfully, and brought his boot down with excruciating force. He stomped, he jumped, he practically threw a tantrum over the Doughboys, which were now pounded into hundreds of small pieces of broken Styrofoam. The music played loudly in the background, blending in with Johnny's mixed emotions.

_I never had the nerve to ask._

He was exhaling loudly, and even beads of sweat trickled from his forehead and temples. His eyes were flashing violently.

"I'm finished with you." He muttered, grabbing a bat resting against the desk. He approached the stereo wordlessly, and with one mighty swing, he hit the stereo with the bat, sending it spiraling out of place and onto the floor, all cracked and sizzling with fizzled wires. The music stopped.

A calming sensation washed over and Johnny sat on the floor, exasperated and exhausted. He cradled his spiky head in his hands, trying to find inner peace.

_Riiiiiiing!_

The phone was ringing. It was always such a big deal when someone called Johnny's house, since no one called at all. The last time there was a phone call, there was a gun hooked up to the phone and he ended up accidentally blowing a hole in his own head.

This time, there was no robotic arm holding a gun. It was just the phone, unless there was an invisible pistol aimed at him. Shaking off the thought, Johnny made his way to the phone and picked it up. Wiping the last of his tears, he spoke in a shaky, choky voice.

"H-hello?"

He froze when he heard Devi's voice on the other end.

"Johnny, we need to talk. Do you mind if I drop by or something?"

Johnny took a quick look around. The crushed stereo was muffling incoherent noises in the corner. There were smashed bits of Styrofoam everywhere. There was a pile of bloody knives stowed away in another corner, and there was a dusty chainsaw hanging on the wall. A freshly mutilated human arm sat on the foot of the staircase.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea.

"Uh…can we just meet somewhere or something?" He asked, trying his hardest to conceal the precariousness in his voice.

"Um…okay. Meet me up on the hill in fifteen. I'll see you there."

_Click._

Johnny stared at the phone for a few silent seconds. He didn't really feel like going out at the moment, but Devi said that she wanted to talk to him, and he really wanted to talk to her. He might as well take advantage of this.

After all, when was the last time Devi asked him 'out'?


	7. The Return

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**VII: The Return**

The drive was usually less than ten minutes by car, but for some reason the drive this time felt like it was ten hours long.

Johnny drove silently down the dirt path through the forest. The only light occupying the area were from the headlights on Johnny's car. As Johnny drove on and on, the jumpy feeling in his stomach grew more and more intense.

He felt as if he was going on a date with Devi again. He felt as if he was driving down to the bookstore to pick her up after her shift so they could go to the movies afterwards. He felt sane as he drove down the path. He felt…human.

"Attempting to make another shot on Devi, Johnny?"

Johnny slammed on the brakes and the car came to a screeching halt. He lunged forward from the impact and he almost hit his head on the steering wheel.

"W-who said that?" Johnny asked shakily, his eyes shifting around the car to see if there was anybody sitting in it besides him.

"I'm right beside you, Johnny C."

Johnny stared at the passenger's seat for a few seconds, only to see that there wasn't anyone sitting in it.

"Look a little further down." The voice guided him. Johnny did as he was told, and he gasped at what he found.

Stuck to the seat by a nail driven through its chest, was Nailbunny.

--

It was nighttime, and the city looked beautiful from the view.

Devi leaned back against the dead tree, her black and purple scarf whipping against the wind. She had her hands dug deep in the pockets of her grey woolen pea coat. Her collar was up to prevent the wind from skimming her cheeks. Her green eyes stared placidly down at the city.

_It's so pretty when you're looking down on it._

This whole placed seemed oddly familiar to her. It was so familiar that it was starting to creep her out. The hill, the stars, the view…

_Hold on just a second._

The painting. She was painting this view this entire time.

She stepped away from the tree and looked up at it. It was like the one she painted. She looked at the hill she was standing on. It was the same one she painted. She cast her gaze up at the sky. It was clear and dotted with hundreds of twinkling stars, like a thousand crystal chandeliers hanging from a deep indigo ceiling. The moon was round and full and it seemed to be overlooking on the stars as they continued twinkling throughout the night.

Panic rushed through her. _This was the view. This was the image she's been trying so hard to remember. Why couldn't she see it? Why hasn't she realized it? It was so simple. It wasn't until Johnny came back that she suddenly had this memory, this image coming back to her so clearly._

Devi closed her eyes and thought back to the moment, that moment in time where everything felt so perfect, so untouched by the filth of this sick reality.

She remembered the hill, the tree, the view…

The car…

She…she was sitting on the roof of it, her legs crossed underneath her. Johnny was leaning against the hood, his back resting against it, his spiky head nearly touching the front window.

It was all so clear to her now. How could she have not recognized it?

"Johnny…" His name randomly escaped her lips as she continued to stare up at the moon. Her green eyes were rimmed with unwanted tears, but she didn't seem to notice or care. She just left them to fall as she continued to stare up at the same night sky that she had once stood under seven years ago.

--

"NAILBUNNY!" Johnny squealed in delight and pried Nailbunny out of the passenger seat to give it a big hug.

"Hey, wait a minute…how did you get your head attached to your body?" Johnny asked suspiciously, tracing the small line of stitches lined across Nailbunny's neck with one slender finger.

"You sewed it back on, don't you remember?" Nailbunny replied. Johnny's eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Hmm…I don't seem to recall. Oh well…I'm really glad to have you back, bunny!" Johnny exclaimed and wrapped the deceased animal in another hug.

"Err, so how are things without the Doughboys?" Nailbunny asked uncomfortably. Johnny set the limp rabbit on the dashboard and continued driving.

"Oh, just splendid, besides the fact that a new talking inanimate figure moved into the house, which I recently smashed to bits. His name was Reverend Meat and he always tried talking me into giving into those mundane human feelings. I ignored him for most of the time, but just recently I couldn't take it anymore so I simply picked him up and threw him to the floor, smashing him into hundreds of broken pieces." Johnny explained triumphantly, his hands clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were whitening.

"Reverend Meat, eh? Interesting…and this whole 'not giving into feelings thing', I'm assuming that you succeeded in that?" Nailbunny asked. Johnny twitched at the question.

"Uh…well, that's a little hard to explain, my dear bunny…"

"Save the explanation for later. I can see a clearing up ahead." Nailbunny interrupted, and Johnny looked ahead to see that his dead rabbit was correct. The forest opened up to reveal a bare hill with a single dead tree sticking up from the middle. It was rimmed with an old wooden fence that looked like it was going to fall apart.

The first thing Johnny noticed was the figure leaning against that single dead tree.

"Good luck." Nailbunny whispered just before Johnny reached for the door handle. Johnny managed a tiny smile and crept out of the car.

--

Devi heard the clunking sound of an old car engine roaring up behind her. She felt the slight warmth of the headlights on her back, and she immediately knew that Johnny was here. Her spine tensed up a little and tried to remain calm as she heard the car door swing open and slam shut.

A few shuffled footsteps later, and Johnny C. suddenly appeared by her side.

At first none of them said a word. They just stood side by side, staring out at the city-which looked gorgeous from the view, by the way. Faint memories of that fateful night flooded into Johnny's head, while fuzzy distorted pictures fizzled into Devi's.

"Nice night out." Johnny said softly. Devi only nodded and continued looking out into the distance.

_An amazing illusion…_

"Yeah…" She whispered. What else was she supposed to say? She said she needed to talk to him…but about what?

"So, you said you wanted to talk, right? Well, here I am. I'm waiting." She heard the impatience rising in Johnny's tone, and she scanned her brain for something to say.

"T-that last conversation we had…seven years ago…" She started.

"It wasn't really a conversation, you know." He finished. Devi felt her cheeks sting and she mentally slapped herself.

"I know, and I want to say that I'm really sorry for yelling like that…it wasn't me to do something like that, especially to you. Please understand…" She mumbled. She heard a quick swish of his long coat and she noticed that he turned to face her. His eyes were flashing dangerously and his hands were balled into fists.

"I **DO **understand, and believe me, what I said on that tape was all raw truth. I meant every word I recorded on that tape, especially when I said that I'd obliterate all affection for you! Over the past seven years I've been wandering out of town, slowly yet surely forgetting all feeling, all desire, all excess of the human body, and I succeeded! I no longer have the need to give in to simple human wants. I was free from all excess-until I came back. I returned home only to find out that I haven't succeeded at all, and that I only took a few small steps forward. I **thought **I rid myself of all feelings for you, but I was wrong. The minute I came back to town, memories of **you **flooded into my head and I couldn't get you out, like a stain too stubborn to come off, no matter how hard you scrub." Johnny grunted, gritting his teeth. Devi gulped and took a cautious step back. She dipped her hands in her pockets. One of her fingers bumped up against a can of mace.

"I'm sorry that all of this is happening to you Johnny, really…but lately it's been hard for me to keep you off my mind too. You're not the only one trying to escape their problems you know. I wanted to forget you so bad…but I couldn't…" Her voice died into a hushed silence and she cast her green gaze on the floor.

"Then why don't you just **hate** me? If you can't forget me, hate me! Hate me for making you like me in the first place, hate me for what I tried to do to you. Hate me for any reason you can think of so that it'll be easier for me to let go of you!" Johnny cried. His fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails were digging into his skin. Small streams of blood were now trickling down his hands, and Devi was aware of it, but she couldn't think of that at the moment. Anger and frustration built up inside her and she exploded right in front of him.

"Jesus Nny, don't you think I've **tried** that already! For the past seven **FUCKING **years, I've tried **so hard** to forget you, to hate you, to despise you with every fibre of my being! And you know what? What I said on the phone that day was also the raw truth! I kept myself locked inside my own fricking house for so long…nearly two years after you left. I was missing out on the world because of what you've done to me, and because of that I wanted so desperately to hate you, but you know what? I couldn't…I just couldn't. My heart wouldn't let me. I wasn't up to it, I couldn't face it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to hate you…"

The anger in her subsided and Devi collapsed on her knees, exhaling heavily. Beads of sweat rolled down her temples and her eyes were lined with tears. Mixed emotions stirred up inside Johnny as he stared at the girl that kicked his ass seven years ago, leaving him with severe head wounds. He still had the scars.

He knelt down and reached out to her. He _hated_ touching people and he hated being touched in return, but Devi was an exception.

He felt _normal _when he was around Devi. He felt _sane_.

He placed a bloodstained hand on her shoulder, careful not to stain her coat. A warm shock ran through his arm when Devi placed her hand on top of his.

"…Your hand is bleeding." She sniffled, staring at his hand. She opened up his hand (which has been trembling violently ever since he placed it on her shoulder) and stared at the cuts where his fingernails have bitten in.

"I know. Don't worry, it's nothing serious." Johnny assured her. He began to withdraw his hand from her but she was holding onto it tight, as if she was a child that was afraid of getting lost.

"No…come, let's go to my place…I'll fix you up. And plus, I have to show you something. It's kinda important…" Devi mumbled, and she got up, pulling Johnny up with her. Johnny fiddled with his coat collar.

"I dunno Devi…I…you actually trust me enough to let me in?" He asked shyly. Devi winked at him before dragging him to his small grey car. She could see the silhouette of a dead rabbit sitting on the dashboard and she began to have second thoughts about this, but the feeling wore off just as quickly as it came.

"They say time heals things." She whispered.


	8. Meanwhile Pt 1: Time for School, Squee!

_Hey, Jhonen had Meanwhiles in his work…so I might as well put them in too P_

_So have fun reading my poor interpretations of Jhonen's fantabulous Meanwhiles as you wait for me to update the story! _

**Meanwhile Part 1**

**Time for School, Squee!**

It was quarter to seven in the morning, and Squee was wide awake-in fact, he didn't even sleep at all.

He never sleeps nowadays, even with the sleeping aides.

It was time for him to get ready for school anyways.

Sighing, Squee stood up from his sitting position on the bed (he was writing poems in his little black notebook the entire night) and trudged to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was seven when Squee dragged his feet back to his room to change into black jeans with frayed parts at the knees, held up with a black leather belt with a Batman buckle. He wriggled into his sort-of-small black t-shirt with the original black and yellow Batman logo screened in the centre. He used gel to spike out the back and used whatever he had left on his hands to flatten out the front and to sweep his bangs to the side. He put on his usual rings and bracelets, picked up his black schoolbag that was lying by the door, and raced down the stairs.

As he made his way out of the house, he stopped for a few seconds to take a peek into his father's study. As usual, the middle aged man was sitting at his desk, slaving over his computer. He was still in his usual white wife beater and striped boxers.

"Err, bye dad." Squee said quietly, and as usual silence answered back. Squee rolled his eyes. He didn't even know why he bothered to say goodbye every morning. He didn't even want to think of his mother at the moment. His mood suddenly dropping at a steep incline, Squee stormed out of the house, just in time to catch the bus.

The bus ride was always a long one, but Squee always had different methods to pass the time. Today he was writing another poem in his black bound notebook while listening to From _First to Last_ on his mp3 player. Around fifteen to twenty minutes later, he arrived at one of the public places he hated most: his high school.

For ten minutes after getting off the bus, Squee stood a few metres in front of the school, looking up at it in anger and disappointment. He hated school. He hated the teachers and the kids there. He hated the system.

He didn't know how he was going to handle it for the next two or so years.

"Hey, faggot! Did you hear the bell? Or are you too busy listening to your FAGGOT music?"

A stocky jock that was passing was hollering at Squee. Squee learned how to ignore their brash comments.

_Don't let them know it hurts_, his therapist always told him.

Sighing, Squee turned up the volume on his mp3 and made his way inside the school.


	9. Paint and Oil

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**VIII: Paint and Oil**

Johnny has always been in _front _or _outside _Devi's apartment, but he's never been _inside _it, for all he remembered.

It was small, but it suited Devi. The walls were covered with abstract paintings, all created by her.

"I remember you telling me that you were an artist…but wow. Your work's amazing." He said in admiration as Devi led him to the living room. A small tinge of pink burned on Devi's cheeks and she quickly turned away so he wouldn't see.

"Oh, the things you're capable of doing when you have so much time on your hands." Devi replied sarcastically. Now it was Johnny's turn to turn pink.

He sat down on the couch while Devi rushed somewhere else to get some medical supplies. Johnny leaned back to awe at the artwork. There were frames of all different sizes, containing paintings with conceptual paintings of faces, landscapes, and just random shapes stacked on top of each other.

Faint memories of Johnny's _sane _past flooded into his head as he continued to stare at Devi's work.

Fuzzy images clouded his mind. He suddenly remembered his own artwork, the dark creations dug up from the crevasses of his mind. He faintly remembered painting in a large space, but he wasn't sure if it was a studio or his own home, the home before the shack he lived in now.

It was the first time he ever remembered anything from his past.

Why couldn't he paint like that anymore? Somehow the creature that used to reside behind one of the walls in his present house sucked the creativity out of him, resorting to that damned stick figure, Happy Noodle Boy (which was incredibly hilarious, according to the homeless insane). Johnny stared down at his hands, which were covered with blotches of dried blood. Fresh blood was still oozing from the cuts his nails made on his palms.

These hands were once used to create.

Now they were used to destroy.

Two total complete opposites that dwell inside one body.

"I'm back." Devi's voice cut off Johnny from his thoughts, and he turned to see her with some medical gauze, rubbing alcohol, and a small bag of cotton balls cradled in her arms. She sat beside him and opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed a cotton ball on the top. She beckoned for Johnny to hold out his hand.

"So where's this _thing _that you wanted to show me?" Johnny asked slowly, wincing in between as the alcohol stung his hand. Devi motioned for him to switch hands and she began swabbing it gently.

"You'll see once I'm finished with this." She mumbled. She tossed the now red cotton ball on the coffee table and unfolded the gauze. She ripped it in two pieces and wrapped each piece around Johnny's hands.

"How does that feel? Too tight? Too loose?" She asked, poking one of his hands. Johnny smiled and gave her the thumbs up to indicate that the gauze was fitting perfectly. She nodded in reply and stood up. She pointed a few feet across from them. Johnny turned towards where she was pointing to see an easel covered with an old paint stained tarp.

"You were gonna show me a painting?" He asked curiously. Devi shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah, but it's not any ordinary painting. I started this about a month after you…err…_our date_. It's not finished yet, but I might as well show you what I have so far." She answered, and with a flick of her wrist, she removed the beige sheet to reveal the painting underneath. Johnny stared at it questionably, but then he instantly recognized it and his mouth opened in a slight gasp.

The painting wasn't finished yet, and it showed because there were still a few blank spots in the middle of the canvas, but other than that, the rest of it was breathtaking. It was a landscape watercolor image of the view on the hill, with the wooden fence, the dead tree, and the spectacular view of the city below it. The middle of the canvas was left blank, right beside the dead tree. The blank space was quite large, as if there was supposed to be something important there.

"It's almost done." Johnny commented. He stood up and approached the artwork to get a closer look.

"I keep having this dream whenever I sleep, but whenever I wake up I'd forget most of it. The parts I remember though-I would paint it out on this canvas. Seven years later, this is what I came up with." Devi said softly. Johnny's eyes glazed over the painting.

"This…this is supposed to be a rendition of that night we spent at that hill, isn't it? We were looking down…that conversation…" He started trailing off and was lost in his own thoughts. Devi didn't even reply; she was caught up in her own thoughts.

_So he remembers, but does he remember more than I do?_

"Do you remember how it was like? Do you remember what we talked about? Whenever I try thinking back, the image would just tune out and I can't remember any of it. The closest I can ever get to getting a clear picture is when I sleep." Devi muttered exasperatedly. She plopped back on the couch and laid her head back. Johnny continued staring at the picture.

"I remember pieces of it…bits and fragments…like you, I see it in my dreams, but then it becomes vague to me when I'm awake. Plus, it's not like I sleep everyday." He explained, as if sleeping everyday wasn't normal. Devi raised an eyebrow at what he said, but she shrugged it off and laid back to stare at the ceiling.

"It's frustrating…spending seven years on something…and knowing you can probably never finish it." She muttered. She felt the couch sink in a little, indicating that Johnny took a seat beside her.

"I know how you feel." He replied silently. She nodded and closed her eyes.

He was here now…she knew he could help her finish the painting.

But how long was he going to stay?

She needed more time…more time with him.

She couldn't finish the painting alone, she knew that for sure. She needed him to be there, to help recreate this forgotten memory.

A memory that they had both forgotten.

Maybe-

BOOM!

Thunder rolled across the sky and the ceiling lights flickered on and off, cutting off Devi's train of thought. Eventually, the lights stopped flashing, and everything went dark. The noise was followed by a heavy pitter-pattering sound of what seemed like a tsunami of rain hitting against the walls and windows.

"Ah shit…heavy storm. No power." Devi grunted. She stared out the window. She could hardly see anything; the rain was too thick.

"Yeah…uh, I think I should go before it gets any worse." She heard Johnny mumble uncomfortably. She grabbed his thin arm before he even thought of leaving the couch.

"Nny, it's already as bad as it is outside, and plus…I was wondering if you'd help me finish the painting." She said quietly. Johnny blinked at her in silence.

She wanted him to _stay_?

She wanted Johnny C, the guy that attempted to _kill _her, to stay?

"Devi, I don't know…I don't think it's such a good idea." He answered. He tried wriggling out of Devi's grip, but she was holding on too tight.

"Why would it be a bad idea?" She asked. She realized that she was still holding onto his arm and she sheepishly let go. Rubbing the spot where Devi grabbed him, Johnny cleared his throat before speaking.

"Well…you obviously remember what I tried to do to you seven years ago…and…"

"Oh c'mon Nny, don't tell me that you're **still** not over that _'I tried to kill you'_ shit. Think of a better excuse. We've tried avoiding each other for seven years, only to wind up where we started. Look, you don't have to stay the entire night if you don't want to-at least a couple more hours, or when the storm dies down. Please Nny, this whole painting situation has been eating me alive for the past seven years since you left, and now that you're back, that eating feeling has lessened its impact. I don't know what it is, but something's telling me that you're the only one that can help me finish this." Devi exhaled deeply and slumped on the couch. Johnny's downcast gaze intensified and he began playing with his hands.

Devi's words seemed to have blown a hole through Johnny's chest. His twisted head was contemplating, reviewing what she just told him.

Should he?

"Devi…you know, I used to paint like you. I don't know what happened. I don't know if I can exactly help you…I've lost my only known talent to an unknown inner monster of mine _(he inwardly added 'well, not really unknown…and inner…but let's not get into that')_, and it's what sort of triggered my…sickness. I used to _create_ things, Devi, but now I do the exact opposite. Can't you see? What I used to express through paint and canvas is now seen through knives, blood, and gore. I can't do it…" His voice escaped him and he suddenly felt dizzy. He cradled his head in his hands. A few seconds of silence later, he felt Devi's gentle fingers running through his hair. At first the thought of flinching crossed his mind, but he soon forgot about it and let the situation be.

"Johnny, you can't _lose_ your talent. It's a gift that's been given to you by…whoever created us. You didn't lose your talent for good; maybe you just simply, uh, _misplaced_ it. You can't lose what's been given to you Nny…believe me, I should know." Devi said quietly. Her green eyes were also cast to the floor. Johnny turned to look at her crestfallen face, and his heart suddenly split into two. He hated it when Devi was depressed, especially when it was _him _that caused her to be depressed in the first place. He seriously rethought his decision, and when he was finished, he turned to face her again.

"Alright, I'll stay. I don't know what it is, but something's telling me to." He added with a shy grin. Devi smiled in return and nodded. On sudden impulse, Devi laid her hand on top of Johnny's. Inside, her head was screaming, but she managed to keep herself under control. Johnny, on the other hand, had eyes as wide as saucers and he couldn't seem to keep them fixed on anything else but their hands.

"Thanks Nny. I mean it." She whispered. All Johnny could do was nod and smile in return. His nerves had the best of him at the moment.


	10. MW Pt 2: The Abhorrence of Binge Eating

_Thanks for the reviews, and sorry if you got a thousand emails about the last update. Something went wrong with uploading, so yeah._

--

**Meanwhile Part 2: The Abhorrence of Binge Eating **

It was lunchtime.

Everyone was scattered about in the cafeteria, eating and chatting with their friends at the numerous tables, which seemed to be sectioned off with various stereotypes.

The jocks sat at the back.

The hoodlums sat by the side doors.

The cheerleading squad sat in the centre, along with the _popular _kids.

The punks sat by the right of the cafeteria.

The Goths sat near the left.

The _losers_ sat in the corner.

Squee, on the other hand, had his own section.

Squee had his own lunchtime outside of the school, under a tree close to the bleachers by the football/soccer/track field. He sat by himself, with his mp3 player blasting _From First to Last _in his ears and his schoolbag leaning against him. Though it was lunch, he hardly or never ate any. He wasn't accustomed to eating much. That was probably why he was so skinny.

Squee's quiet time was soon interrupted by two girls walking around, possibly just coming from the parking lot.

"Like, oh my GOD…what did you eat for lunch today Amber?"

"Oh, you know, like a shit load of fries, a Big Slurp of Pepsi, and a double cheeseburger. Like, what about you?"

"Like, basically the same thing as you, except like, with TWO plates of fries and, like, a TRIPLE cheeseburger."

"Like, you know what that, like, MEANS!"

"Like, of course I do! Did you bring like, your lucky toothbrush?"

"Like, of course!"

The girls clapped their hands together in sickening glee.

"IT'S, LIKE, THROW-UP TIME!"

In a flash, the girls dashed into the school, their 'lucky toothbrushes' clutched in their manicured hands. Squee crinkled his nose in disgust. Even with the volume on high from his mp3 player, he was still able to hear their ecstatic squeals. He believed that forcing yourself to regurgitate your insides wasn't at all helpful to improve your body image.

It's pathetic that people only care about the exterior, and not what really counts.

TV commercials, music videos, catchy pop songs, and other forms of commercial media have blinded society's view of the truth.

Squee wasn't even sure if there was such thing as a _truth_ in this world anymore.

Oh well.

_RIIIIIIING!_

Lunch was over. Squee sighed and packed up his things. He glowered at the school in revulsion before making his way towards it.

He couldn't wait until he got out of that hellhole.

--

_With only a touch of self-mockery._


	11. Realization

_It's nearly dawn now. The sky is getting lighter outside. It looks so perfect from far away._

_This is probably the longest chapter I've ever written before._

_Warning: Major I Feel Sick spoilers dead ahead!_

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**IX: Realization**

It was nearly 2 am and Johnny C. wasn't sleeping.

Devi was curled up on the couch, her hair out of their usual pigtails and sprawled out around her head.

The storm was still coming down hard. The raindrops were hitting against the window so hard Johnny thought it would break the glass.

The room was silent, except for the pitter patter of the rain, the occasional boom of the storm, and Devi's steady breathing.

It was dark.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, but it was long enough for Johnny to take notice of the painting standing a few feet away from where he was sitting.

It looked so eerie in the dark. The storm wasn't helping to lighten the mood either.

The painting was compelling.

"Devi's an amazing artist, don't you think, Nny?"

Nailbunny's deceased body was floating listlessly beside the painting. Johnny rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

"Nailbunny? I-I thought you were in…"

"Johnny, this isn't the time."

"Oh, right. Yes, Devi is quite the artist." Johnny muttered vaguely, his eyes fixed upon the unfinished painting. Faint flashes of his past flicked in his mind.

Oil and paint…

A blank canvas stretched out before him…

The graceful stroke of the paintbrush…

"It's all so soft, so subtle. It doesn't feel right, bunny. This environment's giving me the chills. It's like coming back to a familiar place that I can't even remember, if that makes any sense." Johnny sighed. He got up and approached the canvas. He eyed the set of paintbrushes on the floor underneath the easel, along with a washed palette and a few bottles of paint and oil. A tingly feeling raced in between Johnny's fingers and on impulse, he picked up the palette.

"Fuck, who am I trying to kid? I can't even paint anymore-I'm not even sure if I still know how to hold a damn brush properly!" He growled.

"Shh! Not so loud, Nny! In case you forgot, there's somebody sleeping in the room!" Nailbunny warned, and Johnny whirled around to check up on Devi. She didn't seem affected by the noise he was making. She was still huddled on the couch, snoring lightly. He sighed in relief and continued staring at the palette.

"I lost my only known talent to that _thing _behind the wall. It was slowly suckling at my creativity and I didn't even realize it. I was growing weaker, more vulnerable to the creature behind that wall that I had to keep feeding. It devoured me whole, making me think that I was hearing my own voice inside my head, when it was really that creature in the form of me. I've lost clarity of who I once was, bunny. I don't know who I am anymore." Johnny said sadly. His eyes were brimmed with tears and they slowly dripped from his face to the palette.

"Nny, you can't lose a talent. I swear Devi already told you that _(Nny tried questioning how Nailbunny knew, but the deceased animal ignored him)_. Like she said, talents are gifts given to the living by their creator. These talents dwell inside a person; they are a part of who that person is. To lose these talents means to lose a part of yourself, to simply forget something important. Nny, you may be lost, but you know who you are, at least most of who you are. You may be taking another path than most other people, but that doesn't mean you've lost sight of who you are." Nailbunny reassured. Johnny shook his head and automatically picked up a brush and a bottle of black paint.

"But I don't even remember my past. They say the past makes up a large portion of who you are. Whenever I try to think back, the images are distorted and the sounds are inaudible. It's like watching TV underwater, for Christ's sake." Johnny countered. He squirted a small black blob onto the palette. He gently placed the black bottle on the floor and picked up a purple one.

"I don't even know why I'm filling up this palette." He added glumly.

"Maybe it's because something inside of you is trying to tell you that you haven't lost anything at all." Devi's voice, sounding dreadfully tired, approached from behind, startling Johnny. Nailbunny has also mysteriously disappeared.

_You're on your own on this, Nny._

"W-what was that?" Johnny asked automatically, pretending he didn't hear her. He spun on his heel to face a sleepy looking Devi sitting upright on the couch, distractedly rubbing her eyes.

"Do I have to recite that whole speech over again for you, Nny, or is your skull too thick to absorb information? Nny, I know you still have talent in you. That _thing_, whatever the hell it was, it did not suck _all _of your creativity. Look, you were squirting paint onto the fucking palette! AND YOU DID IT OH SO NEATLY TOO!" Devi burst out, bolting up from her seat. Johnny nearly dropped the palette.

"How did you…" He managed to choke out. Devi read his mind and answered quickly.

"I wasn't _totally_ sleeping, and…well…I sorta have a confession to make, a story if you will." She calmed down and sat down again. She lightly patted the spot beside her and Johnny obliged, but not without gently placing the palette on the tarp spread out on the floor first.

"A story? What do you mean?" He asked quietly. He mechanically began fidgeting with his hands. Devi sighed and slumped against the couch. She grabbed the hair ties lying on the coffee table and quickly redid the pigtails.

She knew it was proper to tell Johnny about Sickness.

After all, he was the _friend who thought he could fight._

"Some time after our…outing together, I quit my job at the bookstore and began working for this publishing company called Nerve. It was a hell of a workload but it kept me busy, and the pay was good. I spent so much time working, or at least trying to work, that I began neglecting all of the paintings that I used to do for myself, on my own leisure. There was one particular painting that I never finished before my job at Nerve. It was a painting of a doll that sorta looked like me, and I named it Sickness. For some reason, it began talking to me in my own voice." She explained. She paused for a bit when she eyed Johnny's frightened looking expression.

"Something on my face?" Devi asked half jokingly. Johnny shook his head.

"Y-your painting…it was…talking to you…in your own voice?" He whispered faintly, as if he was having difficulty pronouncing his words. Devi nodded slowly and straightened her back a little.

"It was my voice, but more tired, as if I just woke up from a long sleep or whatever. It would speak to me whenever I was alone. It would try anything to get me away from working. It wanted me to relax, to kick back so it can, I dunno, _develop_ or something. I remember it telling me that since I wasn't working on the painting anymore, it would just finish it itself, and it did, oddly enough. It managed to add freaky looking legs and screws for eyes, and it even jumped out of the painting!" Devi cried out. Johnny's eyebrows knitted together at the top in deep contemplation. He rubbed his chin with his thin fingers.

"Sickness also told me that you tried to fight back, but you didn't win. She said that _you _were the one that introduced her to me." Devi added quietly, so quiet that Johnny could barely hear what she said.

But he heard it, and it nearly stopped his heart.

"So, you were confronted by that supernatural force that forced me into relinquishing my only grip on my sanity. I guess this whole flusher thing isn't just a one person job." Johnny grumbled. Devi raised an eyebrow in reply.

"What the fuck's a flusher?" Devi questioned. Johnny clapped a hand to his forehead. Him and his big mouth.

"Y-you don't wanna know, trust me. It's a long story. Anyways, where's Sickness now? Why aren't you horrendously insane, if that isn't such a harsh question to ask?"

"Well, right after she leaped out of the damn canvas, I threw her, pulled out her eyes, dumped them in a bag, and a plane randomly crashed and destroyed half of the apartment building, killing the psychic fat lady that used to live a floor beneath me _(Nny suddenly had second thoughts about him leading the weirdest life)_. Coincidentally my room was left unscathed. Tenna's too. It took three years for the building to get fixed up, but hey, it's intact now, and that's what matters." Devi said, resting her hands behind her head. Johnny gave her a sad smile and stood up to walk towards the window, which was being pummeled to death by rain. He pulled the drapes apart to stare lamely outside at the dark, storm smeared sky.

So basically, it was his fault for her being so fucked up now.

"I'm so sorry Devi. This situation's just fucked up. It was because of me…that Sickness came to you. If you weren't quick enough to detect her, you would've…you would've ended up like me." His voice died down to a quiet whisper and he fell into his own thoughts. Devi silently stared at his back, lost in the ocean of her own mind.

She woke up too soon.

He woke up at just the right time.

She had enough strength to fight back.

_They _already had enough strength to overpower him.

She defeated it just in time.

For him, it was already too late.

_Is there still time to tighten those loose screws?_

_Maybe there is still hope for Johnny C._

_He just needs someone to help point him in the right direction._

"Johnny, I know how lost you feel right now. It's like you're standing in the middle of a road with other tiny roads pointing out to other directions, and you don't have a map telling you exactly which road to take. Sometimes the things you think you've lost, or losing, aren't really lost at all. There are just so many distractions misleading you that you've lost clarity of that one thing that defines you as a person. Okay, to be honest, once I realized that it was _you _that basically caused Sickness to start talking to me, I was pissed at you. My hatred towards you overpowered my fear of you, and well it just took over me. I was no longer scared of you. I wanted to fucking _kill _you." Devi confessed. Johnny whipped around as a response.

"What happened to that hatred?" He asked, hesitantly approaching the couch. Devi let out a small, sort of sad sounding chuckle before speaking.

"Last time I checked, Nny, I'm a human being. Feelings come and go. I'm not the type to hold onto a grudge-a long term grudge, at the very least." She said. Johnny nodded and he stepped closer to the couch.

"You know, during the whole Sickness thing, I learned one thing in life, and that was that I wasn't meant to share my life with anyone. I was meant to be left alone with my work and nothing more. For a couple of years, I lived by that rule. It was weird because the psychic woman's fat told me that, but that doesn't matter at the moment. I lived alone with my work. I went out with Todd and Tenna once in awhile, but that was it. I was finally happy with my life. I felt like I could see the path ahead of me. Everything was fine, until you came. I'm not saying that your presence is a negative vibe or anything, but it sort of…_shifted_ my perspective, you know?" Devi pressed on. She didn't seem to realize that she was pouring out her life story on him, and every spoken word made him feel guiltier and guiltier about taking that first step into the bookstore so many years ago.

"When I saw you again, the whole _solitude _idea just sorta warped, blurring to obscurity. I felt as if I've been living on the right side of life, but it was something that wasn't meant for me. It's sorta like getting a perfect score on a test, knowing that you cheated on the nerd you sat beside, if you get my poor metaphorical skills. You changed that, Johnny. I don't think I was meant to live through this shit alone. I think I just need someone I can relate to."

Johnny was feeling uncomfortable now. He began fiddling with his hands again. A flash of lightning lit up the room, drawing their eyes to the painting.

_It needs to be done._

_Maybe there's still hope for him._

_Maybe she can help me. Maybe not all is lost. Maybe there's still time._

_Maybe I can help._

Both walked wordlessly up to the canvas. Johnny picked up the palette, still wet with paint. Devi was clutching the paintbrushes in her hand so tight that her knuckles were whitening. They both eyed each other for a split second.

For that split second, brown clashed with green. A familiar feeling sparked inside the both of them. It was the same feeling that sparked between them on that night they spent together so many years ago.

It was the night they were trying so desperately to remember.

_It will be done._


	12. MW Pt 3: The Black Notebook

_I'll be gone for a week and a half, so I decided to add a Meanwhile with the chapter I just added in earlier._

_Again, this is added with a hint of self-mockery._

_Note: The binge eating thing wasn't appointed to me, just so you know. Being 90 percent mechanical body parts, I do not binge, nor eat at that matter._

_I don't like monkeys. Well, actually it really depends on the situation. Yes, I am weird._

**Meanwhile Part 3: The Black Notebook**

He knew school was a waste of time.

He could always just cut class, but then what else could he do? Basically everything to him besides creative writing, music, Devi, Tenna, and now the Scary Neighbour Man are just a waste of time.

Squee unlocked the front door and stepped inside cautiously, as if he were entering an unknown territory. It was quiet, as usual. There was the occasional shifting from upstairs and the distant clacking from his father's computer keyboard.

"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" Squee called as he made his way towards the stairs. A muffled voice came from the upper level.

"I'm not listening to you, honey."

It was from his mother. He didn't even have to think about it. He instantly recognized the unawareness in that voice. He didn't pass by his father's study this time. Instead, he just shuffled to his room and locked the door, like what he usually did after school.

He turned his stereo on and popped in a Death Cab for Cutie CD. He plopped on his bed and took in the aura of the mellow music.

He didn't understand how the world worked sometimes.

It was hardly a flawless system, with all these selfish organisms running it.

Johnny was right. It was hard to find the real humans these days.

People are hurtful. They hurt other people, they hurt the environment, and they hurt themselves. It's stupid because most of the time, they don't even realize the pain they're causing. It's all one horrific, painful chain reaction with no end.

There seemed to be no way of stopping it either.

Squee scribbled his thoughts down on paper. Sometimes his writing was illegible, but he wrote it down. Sometimes it was raining and the droplets would stain the page and distort the ink, but he continued writing. Sometimes his tears diluted the ink.

But of course, he kept writing.

He wrote in that notebook everyday.

It was sort of like a diary, but most of it depicted his burning hatred towards humanity and the society collapsing around it.

It was pathetic.

If humanity only opened their eyes and possibly rubbed them, then maybe things would've looked a little better today. Just a little.

Squee knew that it was too late for redemption. Humanity lost its chance to be saved.

Proof of its failure was all written down in Squee's black notebook.

BOOM!

The lights went out and the music stopped playing.

A storm was brewing outside.

"S-son, where are you? Can you go outside and check the powerbox thing? You won't need a raincoat, it's not that wet outside yet!"

His dad was just trying to get him electrocuted, he could tell.

"Kid, are you there? Are you alive? _(He then paused for a moment and then added a quiet 'Please tell me he's not alive.')_. Goddammit, what's his name-son! Where the hell are you?"

Squee sighed and rolled his eyes. He slammed his notebook shut and tossed it carelessly onto the floor and pulled the sheets over his head, like what he used to do as a kid whenever Johnny bombarded into his room through the window.

It was gonna be a long night.


	13. Uncertainty

_I have now returned from the alternate 5th dimension, which has resulted in me becoming 97 percent mechanical body parts._

_BEAT THAT JHONEN!_

_Ahem, now on with the story._

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**X: Uncertainty**

_It was done. It was finally done._

The sun's head began poking out of the horizon, slowly illuminating the room that Johnny C. and Devi D. were currently occupying. They were both exactly a foot apart from each other and three feet apart from the canvas that they were slaving over the past few hours.

They were staring at the painting they finished together on that canvas.

It was a beautiful indigo night sky dappled with tiny stars and the moon looming in the corner. Below was a small hill overlooking a vast night city view. There was a car atop that hill, along with two familiar looking silhouettes.

One was sitting relaxed on the top of the car while the other one was sprawled out on the hood, looking up at the stars.

It looked exactly like the image they were trying so hard to remember while they were apart.

Now that they were together again, the bits and pieces of their memories of that night mended and became that one clear picture. It became the image painted on the canvas that they were both staring at.

It was _real_.

"I still can't believe that I actually did all this." Johnny whispered faintly. His hands were trembling so bad that he almost dropped the paintbrush he was holding. Devi smirked and turned to look at him.

"Hey, don't give yourself all the credit." She said in a dangerously playful tone. Johnny managed a crooked smile and he set the brush down on the tarp covered floor. He retreated to the couch and Devi followed suit.

"I-I don't understand how it came back to me…my creativity, I mean." Johnny said quietly, staring at the floor.

"I told you, Nny. You haven't lost your creativity. It was there all along. It was just…_re-routed_, right?" Devi asked, emphasizing the word _re-routed_ to jog Johnny's memory. He replied with a chuckle, his thoughts retracing their footsteps back to that night when they had that fateful conversation about where Johnny's imagination drifted off to.

"I guess you just needed to switch things up again, you know, to ­reroute the thing that was _re-routed_ by something…ah okay I'm confusing myself, fuck that. You know what I'm talking about, right?" Devi added on, but Johnny wasn't talking. He was just staring down at the floor with a faraway look in his dark eyes.

It was a few minutes and Johnny still didn't reply to Devi's statement. She assumed that he was lost in his own thoughts.

They just sat there with an awkward silence hung over their heads.

Johnny's mouth was racing faster than his head and he immediately began to speak, almost without him noticing.

"I've missed you, Devi." He blurted out. He could feel _(and slightly hear)_ his heartbeat thumping. Much to his surprise Devi faced him with a smile on her face, her eyes warm and inviting.

Devi eyed the young man before her. Johnny had his wide-set eyes cast to the floor and he was playing with his hands.

This wasn't the Johnny that tried to kill her.

This wasn't the Johnny that caused havoc on the streets.

This wasn't Johnny the homicidal maniac.

This was the Johnny that was able to share in depth conversations with her.

This was the Johnny that she asked out.

This was the Johnny that used to visit her at the bookstore.

She unconsciously leaned closer towards him. He looked confused at first but then his expression softened and he leaned in as well.

Inches apart, their hearts and minds began to race. Brown and emerald slowly began to close.

_Nny's back._

_What the hell am I doing?_

_This is the Nny that I've always wanted, that I was always thinking of._

_I have to stop. This isn't me. I can't do this. What if I make things worse, like last time?_

As if waking up from a long sleep, Johnny's eyes snapped open and he instantly pulled away. Devi opened her eyes soon after and stared at the nervous wreck sitting a close distance in front of her.

"Um…the storm has stopped, so I think I better go…" She heard him mumble distractedly. He slowly rose from the couch and smoothed out his trench coat. Devi watched him solemnly. She gathered her thoughts and tried to find the right words to say but her mouth wasn't functioning with her brain. She just sat there, watching him leave.

"I'll see you 'round, Devi." Johnny said quietly, and he reached for the doorknob.

_Don't let him leave just yet, Devi._

"Err, wait…Johnny…" Devi sputtered and got up from the couch. She raced over to him. Johnny turned to look at her.

"Devi, please…don't make this any harder than it already is." His voice was so soft it barely passed as a whisper. Devi could sense the pain in his voice and her mouth suddenly ran dry.

"Nny…I…wait…why?" Her words were currently involved in a head-on collision and she didn't have enough time to sort them out. Johnny turned the knob and pulled the door open. The hall echoed an eerie silence.

"Immortalize the moment, Devi D. Don't let the rot set in." He said, his voice a little louder so she could hear him. He soon left, closing the door behind him. Devi was left staring at the closed door in utter confusion, despair, and for some reason, tragic loss.

--

"So tell me, why did you just reject a perfect opportunity to experience true happiness?"

Ever since Johnny got into the car, Nailbunny had since been bombarding him with questions, questions that Johnny really didn't want to answer at the moment. He tried turning up the radio to drown the deceased animal out, but it was no use. After all, Nailbunny was just another voice inside Johnny's head. There was no radio in his head that he could crank up to max. The only thing audible in his brain were the voices, and right now it was Nailbunny that he could only hear.

"Nailbunny, please…I really don't want to talk about it right now." Johnny replied miserably, turning a corner into his neighbourhood. It was a straight street lined with crooked looking houses on either side. A grey sky hung over the area. Johnny kept silent as drove into the garage and crept out of the car. Nailbunny floated alongside him as he entered the house.

It was dead silent of course, with the occasional agonizing scream from the basement. Everything was how Johnny left it before he left, with the instruments of torture piled up in a corner, the creepy dolls hung from the ceiling with nooses around their necks, and more dolls nailed to the wall.

Johnny trudged to the den and collapsed on the worn out couch. He stared at the TV with a blank stare. He didn't feel like watching anything today. Nailbunny settled itself on the armrest.

"You were afraid, aren't you? You were afraid that you were going to relive what happened last time." Nailbunny broke the silence. It pivoted to face to Johnny, who was sitting with his head held gingerly in his bandaged hands.

"Of course I was fucking afraid. You couldn't even imagine how scared I was. I wanted it to happen so badly…yet I knew I had to hold myself back from going further because I was certain that I was just going to fuck things up again. Oh bunny, if you only saw what happened…if you only knew…"

"Nny, I don't have to imagine. I'm basically you; I know everything you know. Your mind has put another side of you in the form of a rabbit, which you nailed to the wall. I'm still you, Nny. Of course I know what you're going through. Please don't say that I'm oblivious to what you've just experienced, because I know. Believe me Nny, I know." Nailbunny said a little heatedly.

"I'm so confused, Nailbunny. I don't know what to do." Johnny cried. Nailbunny could sense that he was about to cry because his voice was cracking. The lifeless rabbit floated up from its seat on the couch armrest and glided over to Johnny. The homicidal maniac looked up to see his former pet rabbit staring back at him with nonexistent eyes. The tears sort of blurred the image but he knew it was Nailbunny.

"It's part of being human, Nny. Everyone feels confused at times. It's a part of who you are as a human being to feel that way." Nailbunny explained.

"But I swore off to emotions altogether so many years ago! I wasn't enslaved by anything; I was myself, I was free! When I came back to this damned place, all that I swore off from suddenly came back, and it's fucking me up on the inside, as if I'm not fucked up enough." Johnny complained. A series of silence soon followed after that. Nailbunny wasn't answering but he was still floating in front of Johnny. His eyebrows were knitted at the top in utter confusion, a feeling he was beginning to feel familiar with.

"You have a lot to learn still, Nny." Nailbunny said quietly, and faded into obscurity. Johnny began to panic and began clawing at the air in front of him, as if he was able to grab Nailbunny back from wherever it was disappearing to.

"Nailbunny, where are you? Nailbunny!"

Johnny's eyes frantically scanned the room. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found the limp rabbit nailed against a lamp post.

"Oh, there you are. How did you fade like that? That was pretty cool." Johnny chuckled a bit, feeling a little bit better about himself.

The rabbit didn't answer.

--

Devi sat on her couch, sipping her second glass of cheap champagne. She moved the painting to her drawing room because the mere sight of it was beginning to bother her.

She finally finished the painting in seven years, but now that it was done, she couldn't bear to look at it.

Why?

And Johnny…he seemed so normal. He seemed _sane_. It confused her at how he suddenly pulled away like that.

What was up with him?

Devi's thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing, which startled her a little bit. Champagne sloshed out of its glass and onto her black tank top as she scrambled for the phone. She reached for the headset on the side table and put it on.

"Hello…"

"Devi! Long time no…uh, talk!" A faint _squeek!_ could be heard in the background.

Devi sighed and rolled her eyes. Tenna.

"Ten, I really don't…"

"Hmm. Devi sounds displeased. Tenna to the rescue!"

_Click. Stomp, stomp, stomp._

There was a quick knock from the door, and Devi had no chance but to answer it. She ripped the headset off and dragged herself to the door. After unlocking the many locks and pulling the door open, she was greeted by a shiny row of white teeth, bright exuberant eyes, and a small rubber skeleton toy.

"What's the dillio, Devi? Why the long face?" Tenna asked excitedly. She closed the door behind her and bounded into the living room, where she jumped onto the couch. Devi sighed again and sat down beside her friend.

"I don't know if I'm ready to tell you yet, Tenna." She answered dully. Tenna placed a finger to her chin and looked up in deep thought. She squeezed Spooky a couple times, making the _squeek! _Devi hated so much. Devi twitched whenever she heard the noise.

"Well after contemplating with the aid of my expert knowledge _(Devi scoffed at that statement)_, I know just what's been bringing you down…" Tenna said, and Devi smacked her forehead. She counted down inside her head.

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

The two friends said the same sentence simultaneously but they were spoken at different tones. One was a lively, expressive one, and the other was a tedious, almost lifeless one.

_"You need to get out more."_


	14. MW Pt 4: The Morning After

_You can never get enough of stereotypes._

**Meanwhile Part 4: The Morning After**

It was a dull, grey, wet morning. Squee woke up with the sheets twisted around his body, which were still wearing the clothes from yesterday. The boy got up slowly and trudged towards the window, hugging himself in the damp chilly air of his room.

The storm was over and everything was completely soaked. The leaves from the trees sagged with rain droplets and the air had that 'just rained on' smell.

The house was quiet again. There was no thunderstorm. It was quiet.

It was a Friday, thank God, and Squee always kicked off his weekend to a bit of music. He turned the radio on and changed out of yesterday's clothes. Dashboard's _For You to Notice _played softly in the background as he pulled a _Voice in the Wire_ shirt on.

_I'm starting to fashion an idea in my head._

The roof began to sound with little pit-patter noises, indicating that there was a slight drizzle outside. Squee buckled his belt and peered out the window. The clouds continued crying out their tears and they fell gracefully all over the place, creating little streams on the sides of the streets and dampening the already sodden grass.

Squee liked it when it was raining. He liked to think of it as a _bath time _for the society, as if the rain temporarily washed away the wrongs of the world. Of course, the dirt and grime would pile up again overtime but the rain really helped once in a while. It showed what the world was really made of, and Squee liked it that way.

_Where I would impress you_

_With every single word I say._

The song added weight to Squee's heart. He hated yet loved Dashboard Confessional for all its relationship angst. He already had the burning hatred towards humanity fuming inside of him along with the problems that Devi and Johnny were currently facing with to think about, along with _another problem_.

He wrote about it in his journal. He even typed it up on his LiveJournal whenever he felt the need to. He had poems about it scribbled on the margins of his homework.

_Would come out insightful, brave, smooth, or charming_

_And you'd want to call me._

He really hated the whole love/infatuation thing, but then if he admitted to it out loud he would look like a hypocrite. He had this whole theory of love scribbled down in his diary somewhere.

To him, love and infatuation was the same thing. They followed the same basic principals. He found it pathetic how people into them everyday.

He saw love and infatuation as other ways to make oneself look like an idiot, but then again upon thinking like this, it made him hypocritical.

He hated love, but he was human. To deny a feeling is to deny nature of things.

_And I would be there every time_

_You'd need me._

He believed that the only beauty to love and relationships was the mere beginning of it, the start of it all, when everything clicks and starts running. The beginning makes it seem like everything will be perfect, so untouched by the filth of the reality surrounding it, but of course all is not what it seems to be. People think that this whole love thing will last forever or at least for a very long time, but like all things, it begins to wear down. The rot sets in, taking away what seemed to be perfect in the first place.

_I'd be there every time…_

_But now I'll look so longingly_

_Waiting…_

The whole love thing becomes more of a routine than something exciting and unexpected. It becomes part of the daily schedule. It becomes just another part of the day. The magic is gone. It disappears, or maybe it just wasn't there at all. Maybe it's just all a delusion of the human mind to make people think that they are happy with what they've become, what they've just _accomplished_.

Squee believed this word for word, but he knew inside that he was feeling differently.

He had this particular person in mind.

He _always_ had this particular person in mind.

She was in his English class. She sat exactly one row and one desk to the right from him.

It was pure _infatuation_ of course, but as a human being he couldn't do anything about it. He just had to accept what came to him. That was how life worked for him, to accept whatever's been thrown at him. He lived by that principle ever since he first moved into the neighbourhood.

On impulse, Squee mechanically checked the digital clock/radio sitting on the side table by his bed. There was ten minutes before the bus arrived. He had to go.

The angst-ridden boy picked up his backpack on his way out, forgetting to switch off the radio. The song faded into nothing as Todd Casil left the house.

_…For you to want me, for you to need me, for you to notice me._


	15. Gradual Incline

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**XI: Gradual Incline**

****"I don't know about this, Tenna…"

"Nonsense, my dear Devi! I've been telling you this since like…FOREVER. You don't get out much. Come, let's go out and eat or something. You look famished."

Tenna grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her all the way out of the apartment building. She scanned the parking lot left to right for Devi's car. After a few seconds of searching she found it and continued dragging Devi around.

"Let go of me!" Devi said sharply between gritted teeth. She wasn't in the mood for Tenna today. Hell, when was she _ever_ in the mood for her? She was too happy for her. It made her wonder how she became friends with her in the first place.

Without warning Tenna grabbed Devi by the shoulders and whirled her around so that her backpack was facing her. In a split second she zipped open the front pocket, fished out Devi's ring of keys, zipped the pocket closed, whirled Devi around again so she was facing in the right direction, and slid the keys into the door lock. After unlocking and opening the door to the driver's seat, she pushed Devi inside and pranced around to the passenger's seat. With a heavy sigh, Devi turned the key in the ignition.

"Where are we going?" She asked half-heartedly, not even bothering to turn to face her best friend. Tenna was busy turning the tuning knob on the radio, trying to find her favourite station. After finding it, she cranked it to full blast.

"Let's go to the café! I'm craving donuts!" Tenna screamed over the noise.

--

Meanwhile, a restless Johnny was pacing back in forth in between the couch and the TV in his torn up den with Nailbunny still nailed to the lamp post.

"I don't understand this whole concept, Nailbunny. If I have really succeeded in cutting myself off from all emotion, why is it all coming back to me now that I've come back here? It's like I'm some human boomerang, being thrown off to different places only to return to its starting point. I really thought I accomplished something, something productive, when really I haven't done anything at all. I just don't get it." Johnny said tiredly, as if he had been repeating the same thing for the past few hours.

"Nny, there isn't much to explain. You know, even though you broke Reverend Meat's statue, you would've still been able to hear his voice inside your head if your emotions didn't take over you. Meat only existed to bring back your human emotions. He existed in the wake of your lack of feeling." Nailbunny answered almost immediately after Johnny's statement. Johnny stopped pacing for a short moment to stare at the deceased animal staring back at him with nonexistent eyes.

"I sort of figured that out already, but what I'm trying to point out here is the fact that before I came back I actually felt like I was in control of myself, that I had absolute freedom to do whatever I wished. I even cut back on the killing _(he inwardly added "Okay, that might've been a total lie")_." Johnny shot back. He then resumed his pacing.

"You were born to feel, Nny. You were born to laugh, to cry, to love, to hate, to enjoy, to hurt. You were born a feeling creature. There's no denying your feelings. To deny your feelings is to deny the very identity of who you are. It's denying nature in general. You can't deny who you are, can't you?"

Again Johnny stopped pacing. This time he turned his back on Nailbunny and clenched his fists. He stared up at the ceiling. There were rows of dolls hanging with nooses slipped tight around their necks. Some had noticeable stains of blood smeared on them. They dangled lifelessly as Johnny opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't even know who the _fuck_ I am. I'm not even certain if this is actually _me_, the person I've become. What if I was destined to become something else, something less _deranged_? What if this wasn't meant for me? Maybe someone up there made a horrible mistake." He said, his eyes still shot up at the ceiling.

"That's a question you should be asking someone else. I only know as much as you do." Nailbunny answered quietly. Johnny's shoulders sagged and he collapsed on his knees. He banged a fist against the already cracked wall.

"I don't think this was ever meant for me…this was a mistake wasn't it? This was just some big misunderstanding. If this is how it's gonna be, then why can't they just let me turn it off? I have too much to deal with. This is unnecessary. Just let me turn it off…" He sniffled. His tears trickled down his thin face and dropped onto the floor.

"But if it was possible to shut it all off, then Meat would come back. He'd just annoy you. He'll be nagging you about wanting to turn it back on again. You wouldn't want that would you?" Nailbunny asked. Johnny shook his head in response.

"Look Nny, sometimes there really isn't anything you can do. There are times in life where shit happens and you can't do anything to change it to the way you want it to. Sometimes the only best thing to do is just to sit back and watch it all play out. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe something or someone's telling you that this is the only way to do it, to make things for the better. Maybe it's the only option you have left, Nny." Nailbunny explained. Johnny wiped his tears away with one swift movement and stood up. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against the wall. He slowly closed his eyes.

Nailbunny was probably right. He was usually right about things like these anyways. He was the _voice of reason_.

Maybe there really isn't anything left that he could do to make things for the better.

Life was never meant to go one way. It had to take a few detours before getting to its final destination.

Maybe he should think of it as another _detour._

_Just sit back, Nny._

_Enjoy the ride._

_Watch it all roll by and see what will happen. You'll never know._

_It might be for the best._

_It's probably the only way._

"You're right-hell, you're always right, Nailbunny. Maybe I should just relax. This isn't something worth tensing up about. What else is there to do anyway? I don't have to waste my time worrying. It's natural-I can't stop it, no matter how hard I try. Maybe there really isn't such thing as freedom-maybe we're all just destined to be slaves, slaves to ourselves. We rely on our bodies to live, to exist, to be something meaningful to this world. We rely on our brains to think, our organs to function properly, our bones and muscles to move. We rely on our feelings to remind ourselves that we're simply human and nothing lesser or greater of what we think we are. We'll always be a slave to something, whether we're aware of it or not. This is probably how it should be." Johnny concluded, opening his eyes and standing up straight. He turned to face his former pet. He could almost see it smiling, though it was quite impossible.

Nailbunny didn't answer. Johnny knew that he was right.

Nailbunny just didn't have anything to counter it, that's all.

--

Devi swirled the stirring straw around the coffee mug, watching the creamy tan liquid whipping into a gentle whirlpool. She lifted her head and looked straight ahead to see Tenna literally dumping packets of sugar into her cup. Spooky was lying listlessly beside the napkin dispenser. Devi waited for Tenna to finish stirring her coffee. Making sure that the sugar was completely diluted, Tenna broke the silence.

"So, what's up?" She asked excitedly, quickly taking a small sip of her coffee. Devi stared emptily at her own mug, which was still quite full and was now only lukewarm.

"You know…I really don't know how I end up telling you this kinda stuff even when I'm positive that I'm not ready to tell you yet…but what the hell? I'm gonna end up telling you anyways." Devi muttered in a sarcastic tone. Tenna clapped her hands in glee.

"You're not losing your mind again are you?" She asked suspiciously. She narrowed her eyes for a bit but then she caught sight of Spooky and they widened in delight. She grabbed the doll and squeezed it repeatedly while Devi spoke. Every squeak that came out from that doll was grating into Devi's veins.

"Well no, not really. Remember that _Nny _guy I told you about a long time ago?"

And so Devi began her long explanation about what happened so far, from when she first saw him through her apartment window, up to when they finished the painting together. Throughout the whole thing, Tenna kept squeezing Spooky, and with every squeak Devi's eye began twitching more consistently than the squeaks before.

"I swear you told me that you were completely scared of that guy. Didn't he try to like-oh I dunno-KILL YOU?" Tenna screamed loudly. Everyone else in the café turned to look at her and Devi motioned for her to keep it down.

"Yes, he tried to kill me, but that was years ago. I admit that I was still scared when I began to talk to him again, but then I also noticed that he's changed. He's different, a little." Devi replied. She could see that Tenna was about to squeeze Spooky again and she slapped the toy away from her.

"Oh so he changed, eh? Did he go from totally insane to crazy hyper bi-polar psycho insane?" Tenna questioned sarcastically before taking a sip of her coffee. Devi shot an evil, almost offended glare at her friend and it sent Tenna back.

"Hey, if you knew him as well as I did, then you wouldn't be saying that. He's sick, I know that, but I dunno…for some reason I have this want…almost this sort of _need_…to help him. I know what he's going through. Sickness actually began talking to me because of him, but that's another story. What I'm trying to say here is that I want to help him. He needs help and I think I'm the one to give it to him." Devi explained, letting out a sigh at the end. Tenna's eyebrows were knitted at the top in confusion.

"Are you doing what I think you're thinking of doing, because if it is, you're one sick bitch, Devi." Tenna remarked teasingly. She was replied with a sharp kick to the shin. Tenna's eyes widened in severe pain and she opened her mouth to scream, but Devi pulled out a fistful of napkins from the napkin dispenser and stuffed it into her mouth before she had the chance to make even a quiet squeal.

"Shut up, will you?" Devi muttered grumpily. She rested her elbow on the table and propped her head up with her hand. She stared at the napkin mouthed Tenna, who was trying to speak with the napkins still shoved in her mouth.

"You hreaowee hlike his hi, hoo hyou?" _(Note: I actually shoved a few napkins in my mouth to see how it would sound, and then I tried my best to pronounce them on the computer. I need a life. Buy me one please? I'll pay you back…somehow.)_ Tenna's words were muffled and incoherent, but Devi managed to make out what she was attempting to say. She only smirked. She then reached forward to pull the napkins out of Tenna's mouth, since Tenna didn't seem to be able to do it herself for some unknown reason, for her hands seemed to be fully functional and vacant. Tenna inhaled deeply. Devi slapped a single bill on the table and dragged her friend out of the café. Once they got out, Tenna pushed Devi away from her. She turned down her coat collar and glared at her vividly violet hair coloured friend.

"I hate you, you know that?" She mumbled. Devi only laughed in reply.

--

Devi drove the both of them home. They separated on their way up to their individual apartment suites. She unlocked her door and entered her abode in silence. It still smelled like freshly used paint.

As if there was a compelling invisible force that took complete control of her, Devi walked mechanically into the drawing room. It was messy as usual, with jars and bottles of paint scattered about the floor and counters. Tarp covered most of the tiled floors and paint was spewed practically everywhere imaginable.

In the centre of the room was an easel supporting a painting covered in dark blue, violet, and black paint. There were tiny dots of white and yellow at the top, and in the upper left corner was a slightly large circle, radiating with a mixture of white and yellow.

Beneath that interpretation of a lovely night sky was a small hill with a car resting on it. Two silhouettes rested atop that car, one on the roof and one on the hood.

A very faint picture faded into view inside Devi's head and it brought a smile to her face.

_I have to talk to him._

Somewhere, not too far away, in a quiet suburban neighbourhood, Johnny C. was staring out through the gaps of one of his boarded up windows, admiring the dark sky. The pale moon lit up his smiling face and brought a small sparkle to his eye. There was a faint moaning in the background and Johnny turned on his back to see his latest victim bleeding to death on the floor. Knives were buried into each of his wrists and ankles and it plunged into the floor so he couldn't escape. There was a Z? shaped cut on his back, clearly made with some sort of hooked instrument.

The guy deserved it. It didn't matter much to Johnny because he had more important things to think about right now rather than contemplating on who to kill next.

_I have to talk to her, _his mind kept telling him. He knew he had to. He had taken a step back and looked at things from a different perspective. It turned out that he wasn't as scared of himself as he thought he would be. He was frightened, but not scared to the point where he would shit in his pants.

_I have to talk to him._

_I have to talk to her._

Devi D. grabbed her jacket and slowly made her way out of her apartment.

Johnny C. turned up his trench coat collar and raced out of the door, nearly stepping on the bleeding man, still groaning in obscene agony.


	16. MW Pt 5: Mandy

_With school and work fucking me up, I might not be updating as frequently as I used to._

_It's funny how I can see the sun rising and there's approximately 3 hours 'till school starts. I hate sleep. It's something I can live without._

_I'm hungry._

**Meanwhile Part 5: Mandy**

One half-hour of The Early November later, Squee dragged himself off of the bus. He turned up his mp3. The Early November blasted into his ears as he entered the school.

The school was full of human defects. He could see the filth emitting from their mouths, their actions. He could sense their glowers as he passed them by.

A burning hatred bubbled inside of Squee as he ascended the stairs to the second floor. The Early November echoed throughout the wide hallway.

More stares.

More whispers.

Talking behind his back.

Squee could hear every word they were trying to hide from him, and it made him sick.

"Hola amigo." A deep, slightly raspy voice erupted from behind and Squee whirled around to see a boy about his height, with wild, spiky, almost Mohican hair and dangerous crimson eyes. His skin was ghastly pale, as if he never been outside under the sun before, but no one seemed to notice. Two medium sized horns curled out from the top of his forehead.

Squee gave him a small smirk. Pepito.

"Hey Pepito." He said quietly. Pepito joined in Squee's mini adventure to his locker. Once they arrived, Squee quickly spun out his combination on the lock and pulled the door open.

"I haven't seen you at school lately." Squee blurted out, breaking the awkward silence. Pepito gave a shrill cackle, frightening any nearby students.

"Ah well, you know my father these days. Lately there have been more souls to burn and he couldn't handle the load by himself, so he asked me to help." The anti-Christ replied casually. Squee nodded in understanding. After getting what he needed, he shoved the binders and books into his schoolbag and slammed the door shut. He spun the lock again to secure it.

"So amigo, anything new with you?" Pepito asked. Squee shrugged his shoulders, which have broadened a bit over the years. His eyes darkened for a moment as they began walking to the foyer, the pinpoint hangout section of most of the school's student population. Once they got there, his metallic grey eyes began scanning the crowd.

_Where was she?_

"Uh, amigo…are you listening to me?" Pepito's voice wasn't enough to penetrate Squee's determination to find her. After another few long seconds of awkward silence between them, Squee's expression suddenly lit up. Pepito raised a crooked eyebrow.

"Amigo…?"

He found her.

She was standing a few feet away with a small group of friends. All of them were dressed in black and plaid adorned with studs and chains.

She had long, honey coloured hair that flowed gracefully from her head to her back. Black wispy highlights were only visible when she flicked her hair around, which was most of the time. Her sparkling, almond shaped sapphire eyes glowed with an enchanting innocence, but once provoked the innocence melts away, revealing the sparking flame behind. She was tall, about his height, with a lean body frame, the body of a natural athlete. She loved volleyball. He sometimes saw her skateboarding, but he could tell that she was a beginner. She was always falling, but of course she never took her faults seriously. She'd be on her ass with scraped knees and everything, laughing her head off.

She hated conformity, though sometimes with her friends they looked like a little gang of punk/scenester clones.

Her poetry was amazing. She always had the best ones in class and often the teacher would pester her to come up to the front to read her latest creation.

Amanda. Amanda Harper.

But everyone called her Mandy.

She-

"AMIGO!" Pepito was practically shrieking now, but luckily the foyer was already loud with many other conversations, so nobody didn't care to stare at the odd looking teen with mini horns sticking out of his head. Squee turned to stare exasperatingly at his friend.

"What is it Pepito?" Squee asked, annoyed. He turned around to look for Mandy again, only to realize that she disappeared, along with her friends.

"What were you looking at?" Pepito asked suspiciously. He looked over Squee's shoulder to stare in Squee's direction. Squee pushed Pepito's head away and glared at him. His eyes now resembled sheets of cold grey ice.

"What, what did I do?" Pepito asked, pointing to himself. Squee rolled his eyes and told him that it was nothing. Pepito raised his eyebrow again and opened his mouth to protest, but the bell rang just in time.

"Well, there goes the bell. See you at lunch Pepito." Squee mumbled quickly, and raced off to his homeroom, leaving a very confused child of Satan standing alone in the middle of the foyer among the bustling crowd of rushing students.


	17. Passenger Seat

_Oh Lordy Lordy, where have I been in the last 248729342729 years? I haven't updated this since forever! Well I took the time out of my contemplation on my pessimistic thoughts aimed towards society to update this little story of mine. I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing this for you guys. It's because I care. Yes. I care._

**Nocturnal Dementia**

**XII: Passenger Seat**

Johnny C. had to walk fast. It was cold outside and it was unhealthy to stay outdoors for too long. He cursed himself for not bringing his car.

The stars twinkled brightly under a dark velvety navy sky. The homicidal maniac was bathed in the moonlight but unlike the sun, it was unable to keep him warm. Johnny shivered slightly as he quickened his pace. Her apartment was in sight and his heart skipped a beat or two. He was almost there.

He jogged over the parking lot and rushed inside the apartment lobby, eager for warmth. He rubbed his hands as he made his way up the stairs. He hated taking the elevator. He wasn't very fond of small spaces.

Two flights of stairs later, he roamed the narrow, single-lit hallway until he found her door. The place had an eerie silence and it was creeping Johnny out. His ashen knuckles rapped against her front door.

Two minutes have passed and there still was no reply.

_Where could she be? _He knocked again.

There still was no reply. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. This wasn't right.

He spun around and leaned back against her door. He closed his eyes. He felt the blood rush to his hands, as if they were still defrosting from the cold outside. He was trying to think of where else she could possibly be.

It was then a light bulb lit up inside of his twisted head.

Without any second thoughts, Johnny C. raced down the hallway and bounded down the stairs. It looked like he knew exactly where to go.

--

Devi frowned in disappointment. She stood outside his door for at least fifteen minutes and he didn't show up. She figured he went out to grab his latest victim or something. She didn't let it affect her deeply though. There was always tomorrow, or whatever.

She knew it was cold out, so she drove to his house in her car. After her failed attempt to talk to him, she has since been driving around the city with no sense of purpose or direction with her radio playing softly in the background. Her mind felt like it was going in different directions.

_I roll the window down_

_And then began to breathe in_

_The darkest country road_

_And the strong scent of evergreen_

_From the passenger seat as you are driving me home._

Her attention turned to the radio, which was playing a song she actually knew. It was Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie. She found it weird and oddly coincidental for such a song to be played on the radio at the most convenient time, so she turned up the volume. It felt like the entire interior of the car was being drenched with the song.

_Then looking upwards_

_I strain my eyes and try_

_To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites_

_From the passenger seat as you are driving me home._

In response to the song Devi rolled her window down, despite the cold weather, and took a deep breath. The chilled air cooled her lungs and iced the uncertainty that has been boiling within her ever since he unexpectedly returned to the city. She took a few long seconds to stare at the unusually clear sky. There was hardly anyone on the road so safety didn't really matter at the moment.

"_Do they collide?"_

_I ask and you smile._

_With my feet on the dash_

_The world doesn't matter._

The music was moving as slow as she was driving. It didn't matter how fast she was going. No one was on the road, like she noticed earlier. Devi pulled her head back inside the car and leaned against her seat, emerald eyes closed as if she was asleep. A faint smile twitched into her face.

It was almost the same night. It was cold. The moon was full. The stars were out and blinking like a hoard of fireflies.

There was no longer a need to be afraid of anything. The night was her comfort, a constant reminder of that night she spent with him, the sane part of him.

But sanity doesn't mean anything to her anymore.

Who was the one to call all the shots? Who was really the one in charge of whatever was going on in the world? Whoever it was, they weren't doing a very good job. There were so many people out there. There were so many faults, so many flaws, so many mistakes. Who was the one that said we were all created in our creator's image?

They say that whoever created us is perfect, immaculate, divine.

Hell, they were wrong.

Even creators have their faults.

_When you feel embarrassed, I'll be your pride._

_When you need directions, I'll be your guide._

_For all time._

_For all time._

The music stopped. Devi opened her eyes.

Through the dashboard window she was staring at an opening of a dark forest path that led to an open cliff overlooking the city. A single dead tree stuck up close to the edge. A crooked, worn out fence was placed around the cliff's perimeter. The dying grass swayed eerily in the icy wind.

_How the hell did I end up here? _Devi thought as she climbed out of her car. She swore she was in the city when she was listening to that song. She quickly shrugged the thought off and made her way towards the dead tree. She curled one arm around it and took a long look at the city.

It was so pretty from far away.

It was the inner details that made it so disgusting.

But it was impossible to see them from this far.

Was it possible to live life from far away?

She didn't want to look at the little things anymore. The little things only messed everything up. The general picture was nice. The little things weren't.

_Let me see things from a far away perspective. I don't want to see everything up close. Make me naïve. Make me a regular human being._

"It's cold out." A familiar voice croaked from behind.

Devi spun around, her arm still latched onto the thin tree trunk. Johnny stood there with his hands in his pockets and his coat rippling in the wind. A solemn smile was plastered onto his pale face as he took a few steps forward.

"You come here often, don't you?" Devi remarked, recalling all the other times she came here to contemplate on her own, only to unintentionally bump into him. Johnny nodded and stared out into the distance. The city lights flickered like sparks in his dark brown eyes.

"I don't really have anywhere else to go when I need some alone time." He replied casually. Devi wanted to know what he meant by 'alone time', since he apparently lived alone, but she didn't want to look into it. She didn't want to know _who else_ lived with him, either in his house or in his head.

"So do I. It takes me away from that shit you see down there." She said. No one spoke for awhile afterwards.

Ten minutes on, both grew tired of the awkward silence and they both turned to each other and spoke out simultaneously:

**"I wanted to talk to you."**

In an instant they both turned away with a tinge of pink on their cheeks. Devi inwardly cursed to herself while Johnny stared intently at his shuffling feet. A few seconds of silence later, Johnny decided to speak first.

"I-I don't know if this'll work out." He blurted.

A shock ran through Devi's spine and she spun on her heel. Johnny could feel her stare on his back.

"What are you talking about?" Devi asked. She didn't feel insulted or anything. She was just plain confused. Was there even _anything_ to begin with?

"Look, you know I'm messed up in the head. That's the fuck of it-I'm some criminally insane freak with a lifetime of unbelievable stories. I came back here after seven years of sorting myself out only to realize that I'm not finished…fixing myself yet. I think I came back too early." Johnny explained tiredly. Devi frowned.

"I still don't understand what you're trying to say." She said. Johnny turned around to face her. He never felt so vulnerable before. He had no weapons concealed either.

"I'm leaving…again." He replied simply, and turned to make his way down the cliff. Devi shook her head and grabbed his sleeve.

"W-wait Nny, don't go…" She stuttered. What else was there to say? She couldn't stop him. She didn't even understand what he was exactly going through. She only got the general idea just recently.

"I have to, Devi. I don't know _when_ and _if _I'm coming back. There are a lot of things I need to look into first before coming back for real. I can't say I'm finished with myself yet." Johnny said plainly. He shook himself free of her grip and continued walking. Devi stared at the skinny figure walking into the darkness.

_There was no stopping him now._

_You were too late._

Out of words and all feeling whatsoever, Devi had no other choice but to watch Johnny C. as he disappeared into the dense forest path.


	18. MW Pt 6: Lunchtime

**Meanwhile Part 6: Lunchtime**

The first two periods of the day dragged by slowly, but somehow Squee and Pepito managed to make it. It was lunchtime now and the boys sat idly at their usual table at the back of the worn out cafeteria, right behind the vending machine and the stacks of spare cafeteria chairs piled neatly in the corner.

"I never knew you liked that Mandy girl, amigo." Pepito commented as he took a bite of his sandwich. Squee tried his best to ignore his only school friend by turning up the volume on his mp3 player. The Scene Aesthetic's acoustic guitar rung loudly in his ears as he turned to face his pale skinned friend. His mouth was moving but he couldn't hear a word he was saying.

"Amigo, don't try to deny it. I can tell." Pepito pressed on, and Squee sighed. He ripped his earphones off and rested his arms on the table, leaning slightly forward to give Pepito one of his darkest stares.

"Look, just forget about it, okay? I don't wanna talk about it-not now, at least." Squee muttered grudgingly. His eyes softened a little bit and they began wandering the cafeteria, which was bustling with many rambling and hungry students. His heart came to a sudden stop when he caught sight of Mandy cleaning up her table with a few of her friends. He felt Pepito tug on his shirt sleeve but he didn't care at the moment.

The world didn't seem to matter when she was in the same room as him.

"Uh, Squee? Are you okay?"

Pepito's voice was nothing but distorted noise as Mandy hoisted her schoolbag over her shoulder, tossing her hair as she did so. Her friends shared a small laugh before they got up and began their way out of the cafeteria. Squee's heart was practically screaming inside.

_She's coming this way._

"Todd…" Pepito's voice was lowering now. He turned to see what his gawking friend was looking at, and when he realized, he rolled his crimson eyes and let out a huff of frustrated breath. He decided to give up and let his friend fantasize for the brief moment that was available to him. There was no stopping him anyways.

Time seemed to have slow down. Everything suddenly began to move in slow motion. Mandy walked down the isle between the tables, her hair swishing slightly as she moved. Her friends followed cheerfully behind, their chains clinking seemingly harmoniously. She passed Squee and Pepito's table, took one quick look at Squee, gave him a split second smile, and continued walking as if nothing happened.

Squee's eyes were as wide as saucers and his jaw hung almost listlessly. Pepito rolled his eyes again and shook his friend out of his dream world.

"Was it exciting?" Pepito asked unenthusiastically, staring at his friend through half open eyes, obviously uninterested. Squee stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then looked down at his friend. His throat was closed together and he couldn't think of anything to say, but he knew Pepito was expecting a reply. He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a small, but audible, _squee._


End file.
